B-O-M-B
liberalitas - charity
B-O-M-B
Baelfael patted six-year-old Moira on the head. "All right, now. Two plus two."
"Four. Duh." Moira stuck her tongue out at him.
"Eight multiplied by eight?"
"Sixty-four."
"Thirty-five by nineteen."
"Six hundred and sixty-five." Moira pronounced each syllable like a separate word.
Baelfael took a breath. "How many minutes in one-third of an hour?"
"What?"
"Sixty divided by one over three."
"Oh. Twenty."
"How many seconds in four days?"
Two seconds' pause. "Five thousand, seven hundred and sixty."
Baelfael leaned back in his seat and glanced over at Behemos cleaning his Tendall 480. "Bem, you have to send her to school. She's far too smart to be stuck here all the time."
Behemos snorted. "And leave her out in the open for anyone to take a shot at her? Forget it. What can school teach her, anyway? She doesn't need that crap. She needs to know real things, not whatever the hell it is that they teach kids in school."
Baelfael let out a sigh. "If that's how you're going to be...then I'll teach her."
A derisive laugh from the Lord of the Frozen Wastes. "You? You're never around! You're always doing your what's-it-called academic crap! Nose stuck in a book or to a computer screen or whatever."
"Then I'll take a break from my 'academic crap'. I refuse to have Moira's talent wasted."
"Hmph! It's your funeral. But I don't see what you could teach her that could be so important."
"You would be surprised." Baelfael reached out a hand to Moira. "Would you like to see something cool, Moira?"
Moira took his hand and clasped it tightly. "Like what?"
"Like, perhaps...making a penny into a radio? Or changing milk into plastic? Or extracting water and electricity from thin air?"
Behemos gave Baelfael an incredulous look.
Moira arranged her features into a deep-thinking expression. "But why would you want to change milk into plastic?" she asked, blinking up at Baelfael.
"You tell me," Baelfael said as he led Moira away.