Goldy is about to reply when the nearer of the two bedroom doors swings quietly open. A little blonde baby girl is revealed, pajama-clad and looking quite bleary. An astute observer might notice the rich golden tone of her hair—pillow twisted as it may be—and draw similarities with the legendary locks of the suite owner.
But, even if that escapes notice, her first statement is a big clue to her identity. Or at least to her heritage.
"Mommy. Drink," she mumbles, and blindly holds out a sippy cup. Her other hand is hugging a very feral looking teddy bear to her chest.
"Oh. You're up," Goldy says. And then sighs. "Okay."
She leaves the couch and heads over to the infant.
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Date: 2008-03-22 05:22 am (UTC)But, even if that escapes notice, her first statement is a big clue to her identity. Or at least to her heritage.
"Mommy. Drink," she mumbles, and blindly holds out a sippy cup. Her other hand is hugging a very feral looking teddy bear to her chest.
"Oh. You're up," Goldy says. And then sighs. "Okay."
She leaves the couch and heads over to the infant.