These are embarrassingly unfinished, but they're never going to be finished at this point. Can't be too much harm in putting them up here with the rest.
Scraps
"Why don't you and Uncle Ishiah have any kids?" The elder Leandros child, a ten year old boy with pale hair and paler skin, was regarding Robin with the expression of someone who has just noticed a large elephant sitting in the center of a room, despite the fact that it has been sitting there all of his known existence. His younger sister, who was eight, dark-haired but no less pale complected, looked up with some interest from the chapter book she was reading at the sound of her brother's voice.
"What? Caligula's swollen, lice-ridden groi--" A sharp click of the tongue from Promise, who hadn't bothered to make any other show of paying attention to the conversation at hand, stopped that particular phrase in its tracks. "Lice-ridden goiter, why do you want to know that?"
"I was just wondering."
-
At some point in the seven years he'd existed, Panos Leandros developed a fascination with his Uncle Ishiah's bar. What exactly had brought on his interest in the place was a matter of some debate; Cal suggested it had much to do with his father's long-standing dislike of taking him there, while Niko indicated that it had far more to do with Cal's occasional practice of taking Panos to the Ninth Circle anyway. Robin surprised no one by declaring that young Pan clearly enjoyed the promise of seeing his favourite uncle.
Ishiah, who generally kept his own counsel on the occasions the subject came up, suspected Panos was most taken by the patrons of the bar than anything else. When Cal brought the boy or his sister in, Ishiah reserved a small smile for the children and a raised eyebrow for their uncle. Both Panos and Calla were quiet on these visits.
-
Up to sunset, the Hudson glittered like the surface was a sea of diamonds instead of a polluted river, and Calla hated it. She'd figured out early on that the sunlight wasn't any more fun indirectly than it was hitting her straight on. Trying to get her to go out when there was any chance of catching sight of it was like trying to get Robin Goodfellow to sign a purity pledge: you could give it all the effort you had, but you wouldn't make much headway.
I think she was afraid of the water, too, though I couldn't tell you why if I wanted to because she denied it with gusto. She hated going within a block of the edge of the water, even at night. It was a pain in the ass when you factored in that I ilived/i a block away from the river, but I didn't mind it too much. Calla had normal fears. Well, sort of; most six year olds didn't know what revenants were, let alone feared them. But for the most part, she and her older brother had only been afraid of normal little kid stuff. I was willing to trade some arguments over how we got to the subway for two kids who didn't spend their nights terrified of the monsters they might see waiting outside their window.
That afternoon, I minded it. Professor Niko had a night class to teach, and Promise had a social engagement that didn't include precocious grade-schoolers on the invite, so I was on babysitting duty for the evening.