"Gustave!"
Erik stood at the bottom of the tree, glaring up at his seventeen year old son, Gustave, who refused to come down.
The boy in question groaned. "Dad! I don't need a lesson today!"
Erik raised his eyebrow – the one that wasn't obscured by the white mask he wore. "Oh really? And why might that be?"
Gustave rolled his eyes. "Because you've been giving me them since I was ten, and I just don't, okay?"
Erik, not accepting the excuse, stood his ground. "Gustave. Music lesson. Now."
Gustave, however, had turned his attention to a leaf, and he stared at it as if it held the answer to the meaning of life.
Erik shook his head and went back inside, leaving Gustave to do his own thing. He would come in when he was ready.