Varian was laying down on the bed, poring over the note and the Record, trying to glean some sort of new information from it... To no avail. Cassandra sat next to him, reading some thick volume or other. Finally, Varian- fed up with his non-existent progress- huffed and tossed the papers aside. Cass looked at him, closing her book and resting a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Nothing?" she asked him.
He shook his head, propping himself up a little. "I don't even believe the information we have, Cassie. I mean, not that I have much reason not to believe that it's his handwriting, but... Vince is my brother. He'd never do such a thing."
"You hardly even know him, Varian," she replied, laying back, "you said so yourself."
He laid down, too, taking her hand in his. "And you do?"
Cass snorted, giving him a pointed look. She had indeed known Vince, and Varian knew that. Not that he was okay with it- what man wanted to accept the fact that the woman he loved had been with his brother beforehand?- but he never gave Cass any grief for it. He never gave her grief over stuff that she didn't do.
(Besides, he adored Trystan, despite the fact that she was proof of Cassandra's previous ties with Vince).
He sighed. "You have a point, I guess. But still... Why would he- or anyone, for that matter- want to kidnap a two-year-old girl?"
Cass snorted. "There are plenty of reasons, Varian, you know that."
"Yes, but... Why? Why her? Why... Why Trystan?"
Cass shrugged, resting her head on his chest and studying their interlaced fingers. Varian wrapped his other arm around her, holding her close. They sat there like that for a little while longer, enjoying the quiet... Until it was broken by the sound of their oldest daughter screaming.