"-then the duckling asked her mother, Do you really think I'm special?" Bradford read from the storybook in a low, gentle voice. "Yes, child, said mother duck. The most special in the world."

He closed the book and glanced down in the crib with a smile, ignoring the total chaos the room had erupted into not even 10 minutes ago. April had finally fallen asleep, after an entire 2 hours of crying. His room was haphazard with baby clothes, powder, diapers, and thrown around plush animals and half-open drawers, but at least it was finally worth it. Newborns did need their rest after all, according to the guide.

As he tucked April in, a drowsy, black head peaked out from under the layers of clothes strewn about on the floor. "Is it…is it finally over?"

"Yes, Heron. No need for dramatics."

Black Heron groaned in relief as she shooed away the clothes and got up. "Ohh, finally, I thought she'd never shut up."

"These things just take time." The older man grunted as he leaned down and starting picking up loose toys and bottles on the floor as Heron leaned on the cabinet and watched. "She is just a baby."

"Ohh, but wouldn't it have killed that old coot to install an 'off' button on that thing," she whined, massaging her temples.

Bradford sighed but kept quiet. Heron has been like this since April was hatched two days ago, and it wasn't helping things. Allowing April to sleep in his intermediate bedroom at FOWL HQ had been his idea: he wanted to keep her as close to him as possible during the night just in case anything were to happen, so that he'd be there to attend to her as quickly as possible. He also wanted the child to grow in as close to normal an environment as possible, whatever normal meant in the HQ. A controlled, familiar environment, at least, not in the lab she was developed in.

As Bradford organized the toys on the shelf near the crib, Heron suggested snidely, "I still think you should've just placed her in that holding chamber. We could've calmed her down faster in there."

"For the last time, Heron, no," he grumbled in a tired voice. "We can't get accustomed to using the chamber like that with her. Calming her down can't be forced by a machine, especially not for a developing mind like hers. It needs to be done the old fashioned way, as von Drake instructed us."

"But if we want her to obey us-"

"It'll not be by coercion, Heron," he whispered sharply, making her flinch slightly by the stern look in his eye. "Trust needs time to develop, it can't be rushed. If we want her to listen to us like any good, obedient child should to their caretakers, she deserves to be respected in all aspects. Something you wouldn't know," he added with some menace.

Heron raised a brow and crossed her arms with a smile. "Hmph, look who's talking. Well, you do have a point. You're not exactly given respect as a kid when your parents had no choice but to sleep and work on the streets." She gave a low, sultry chuckle, then she frowned. "Fine. Then I'll ask you, what do you know about respecting children? I never knew you cared so much about their useless welfares."

Bradford stared dryly at her, then he turned to straighten a loose teddy bear on the shelf, trying to distract himself. "I have my own agendas."

She scoffed with a hint of a dark chuckle. "Oh, I'm sure you just had the most lavished childhood. Parents who loved you, raised you in a mansion, a silver spoon in your mouth. That'd suit you very well, I'm sure-"

"Enough."

The word was uttered quietly but with force, his hands clutching into shaking fists over his writing desk.

Heron did stop, nodding her head to the side in confusion as she gave the man a curious look. After a few moments, Bradford took in a deep breath and composed himself, turning back to Heron with his usual flatness, his feathered hands holding onto his suit as if he were staring down an unruly client.

"If we are to have the child do our bidding," he said evenly, "then we need her to cooperate with us. Raising her as if she were our own is the best option towards this, as I forsee it. We need her to see us as her regular guardians: to be trustful of us, to come to us for her needs. She will take what we say to her as full fact. Then, when the time is right, she'll do whatever we ask of her. If that means helping out with FOWL, helping to lead it, or just getting us the papyrus, time will tell. But until then, that means treating her like our own."

Heron's eyes popped out. "What do you mean 'like our own'? You don't mean to tell me- like actually being her parents?!"

Bradford frazzled, then he quickly shook his head. "What- no, no. Not like parents. She isn't-"

But his eyes went over to the crib in concern. Wasn't she? The moment she came out of that chamber, it almost felt like he just became a father to a newly born daughter. Even von Drake joked they were her parents now. Before this moment, he had accepted that he'd watch over her, but whenever he tried to speak to Heron about her specific part in all this, she either just waved him away saying she'll help whenever she found the time, or she'd say she wasn't exactly the motherly type.

Now, however, there was no escaping this conversation. Bradford closed his eyes, then sternly turned his head back to Heron.

"Guardians or not, we created her. If we are to raise her through our own needs, that means I need to know if you're going to be a part of this too."

"But-but you said-"

"That means all the responsibilities and duties involved in this, Heron. Tell me now if you still want to be a part of this, then I won't ask again." He put his hands behind his back as a final word on the matter. "That's all I need to know so that I can plan appropriately for all this."

"But," she made a face in disgust. "Yugh. Baby stuff. I still really don't want this. I thought I'd just be a regular partner in this as a babysitter not as, well," she glanced at the crib, "-well, I never really thought I'd be so involved with raising a mouth breather. Or that it'd be this hard."

Bradford raised a brow. "If that's a 'no', then-,"

"I didn't say 'no' yet, ya old buzzard," she retorted, pointing a metal claw at him. Then, slowly, she let her arm down and sighed in resignation. "Fine. Fine, I'll…ugh, help you." She stuck her tongue out in disgust. "But only because our goals still remain the same. Changing diapers isn't exactly what you call 'villainous'." She air quoted.

But Bradford smiled in smug victory, finally getting what he needed after all these months: compliance.

"Excellent. Now, help me clean up this mess."

As they both bent down to pick up the rest of the clothes and blankets, Bradford smirked to himself as he heard her mutter, "Why couldn't that old codger just get his own clone stooges to do this for him?"