As always, anything you recognise isn't mine.
2274. 24th January.
'Amadeus? You must be joking.'
The woman shook her head stubbornly, 'No. I like it.'
Her husband sighed; he knew there would be no getting through to her at this moment in time. 'We'll talk about it properly later. There's no point deciding a name anyway, we're not keeping him.'
'Why?'
'Well, you know where he came from. I'm not sure we want a child like that as a brother for Joseph.' She opened her mouth to protest, but was silenced by a finger being placed on her lips. 'Even if you think we could crush that spirit and bring him up the right way.'
She scowled petulantly, 'But he feels right for us.'
'We'll talk about it later.'
'Fine.' The woman pouted, then yawned. Naming, and indeed, choosing a child was an important business, and frankly, she was far too tired to think about it now.
The man, Georges, stroked her hair and bent over the bed, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. Though they were married, it was cold and sterile, for appearances only. No love had ever been lost between them; they married for convenience, and because their parents had wanted them to. Adrienne accepted his kiss unflinchingly; years of practise had trained her well.