I always knew this old bastard was crazy, but asking me to make babies with all of them?
I blinked.
"Give me grandchildren's!"
Before I could even process it, my hand moved on its own.
-SMACK!!!
A sharp smack echoed through the room as the side of my palm collided with his cheek.
Snow, who had been perched precariously near his mouth, went flying in a puff of white fluff and offended chirps.
"Owww! What the hell, kid!?" Dad groaned, rubbing the fresh red mark blooming on his face. "Why'd you do that for!?"
"Sorry," I muttered, lowering my hand. "I did it without thinking… you were speaking nonsense."
And honestly?
That might've been the mildest way to describe it.
The way he'd leaned in, eyes shining with a little too much excitement, spouting phrases like "go make babies with them all"—it sounded so gross coming from him that my instincts kicked in before logic could stop me.
"Nonsense?" he repeated indignantly. "I was speaking facts, you ungrateful brat!"
