She's still acting like a three-year-old who's hungry.
His tone was the exact same as it had been over ten years ago.
Back then, she was afraid of him. When he said she was hungry, she immediately didn't dare to object and obediently listened.
Sylvan Cheney, devoid of sleep due to her pestering, groped for her wrist in the dark and pinned down her fidgeting hands.
"Jasmine Yale, will you sleep nicely? Hmm? No more fidgeting," Sylvan Cheney warned her, "Keep fidgeting, and I'll go sleep in the guest room."
"I'll stop fidgeting." She said aggrievedly, "Can you hold me?"
"No."
"I'm cold; if you don't hold me, I might catch a cold."
"You're really pushing your luck. Haven't you been sleeping alone all these years?"
"No, in Chicago, I had Sweet Kitty."
"Then you…"
"Are you going to hold me or not?" Jasmine interrupted him, "If not, I'll go to my room and bring back a stuffed animal."
"Fine," Sylvan scowled, "I'll hold you."
