The world is made up of threes. In those threes, Louie is always the third. The third gift. The third son. The third one called. It's given him a knack his siblings don't have. Louie likes to call that knack patience.
First one reprimanded, last one hugged. If his siblings were main characters, he'd practically be supporting cast. Once, that had hurt him. It'd hurt him a lot. But he's older now, and older kids don't care about that type of thing. He can't. He won't.
Louie likes shiny things. He likes the way they look on his shelves. He especially likes money; pocket change in particular, with how it jangles and clinks and clangs. Quarters are a fan favorite. Pennies are cute, but they don't do him much good. Bills are the best, but even Louie can't deny that they lack the dramatic flair of spilling coins out all over.
But when it all comes down it, some things just aren't about Louie. Some things are about the whole family. That's what money does- it keeps everyone happy and safe and he gets all the soda he wants. He's surrounded by it all, kept carefully under the watchful eye of his Great Uncle, and Louie's fingers itch. He keeps them in his pockets and watches for little chinks in the armor, the security systems, the old man's face. Louie can wait.
He has all the time in the world.