Oliver was feeling rather important at the moment. Here he'd been thinking Commander Luccio didn't like him very much, but she'd entrusted him with an important message to Commander Morgan! Well, maybe it wasn't so much that she didn't like him, he amended mentally, as that she thought he said stupid things.

He couldn't really deny that. He had a rather spectacular bruise to prove it.

Whatever.

Oliver had never actually met the Commander, only seen him at a distance. A very imposing man, precisely the sort of person one imagined as a Commander. He probably lived in a spare, spartan set of rooms, Oliver decided. And wore his cloak all the time. A fashion disaster, but definitely impressive.

In order to test his hypothesis, he proceeded smartly up the walk to Commander Morgan's home—he'd been threatened with several different deaths if he revealed the location, which was insulting if he thought about it, so he didn't. Much more fun to revel in the importance of it all. He arranged his face into a suitably serious expression and knocked.

There was a slight delay in opening the door; but it was the Commander, looking somewhat harried and carrying a small child in one arm. "Yes?" he asked. He wasn't wearing his cloak, Oliver noted.

The child derailed Oliver completely, and for a moment all he could do was blink. "Uh…"

The Commander sighed. "Spit it out, son," he said, not unkindly. "I'm a little busy."

"Commander Luccio sent me," Oliver blurted, after a moment. He was still staring at the kid. "She said there've been developments with the…um, the operations in India…um."

"Report to me, not to my son."

Son? "Really?" he asked, not thinking, then realized he'd been rebuked. "Um, yessir, sorry, sir. She wrote most of it down." Oliver scrambled for the letter, trying to remember which pocket he'd put it in and failing miserably.

Fortunately, the boy didn't realise how hard the Warden Commander was trying not to smile. Also fortunately, Morgan succeeded.

Snug in his father's arms, the baby sighed and gurgled a little.

Oliver finally located the letter (hiding in his left pocket) and held it out, sneaking sideways looks at the baby. "She said I was to wait for a reply?" he ventured, rather than said.

Morgan skimmed over the letter, arching an eyebrow as he noticed the postscript: Luccio had requested a summary of Oliver's actions. "Very well. Just a moment." Turning the letter over, he scribbled a reply and added, 'The boy still needs work on concealing what he is thinking. Arthur surprised him.'

The boy in question shifted from foot to foot, and took advantage of the Commander's distraction to stare at the baby again. Really, the Commander had a son? You just didn't think of someone like him with any family at all, much less children, much less being good with children. It boggled the mind.

Quickly, Morgan folded up the letter and returned it to Oliver. "My greetings to Commander Luccio."

Oliver bobbed his head in agreement, stuck the letter into his left pocket again and hesitated. "Um, sir?"

Morgan arched an eyebrow at him. "Yes?"

"Um," Oliver said, miserably. "Um. Son?"

The other eyebrow joined the first. "Is it that surprising?"

"Um." He was starting to go crimson with embarrassment. "A little. A lot. Yes. Er."

"Why?"

Oliver, painfully aware that he was treading on extremely thin ice, made expansive, vague, and above all noncommital motions. "You're a bit… well… not very… er…"

"Contrary to popular belief," Morgan said gently, "I am not a Warden all of the time."

"Could have fooled us," Oliver muttered.

"I heard that," was the mild reply.

Oops. Oliver went bright red again and stammered out a somewhat incoherent apology.

"Learn to control your face and your voice," Morgan suggested kindly. "It will do you much better in the long run."

"Yessir," Oliver said, eyes down. He was beginning to suspect that he had been set up.

"Back to your Commander," he ordered now.

"Gone, sir," the younger man said, and immediately about-faced and marched away, heading for a local park where he'd emerged from the Nevernever.

He had a sinking feeling that he would never hear the end of this.