Lionel and his sister hadn't seen each other for years and hadn't really spoken properly for years before that. In fact, if asked if he had any siblings, Lionel would –and frequently did- forget his twin sister, Lutrice, with whom he shared nothing but blood and a birthday. She had always disappointed him; her red hair and straight, Luthor nose had always, in his heart at least, promised a kindred spirit, someone of Lionel's own ilk with whom he could share his empire, and this was before he even had an empire. It was so exciting as a child, as a twin child. This person was supposed to share his thoughts, his ideals, his dreams, but it wasn't to be so.

'I feel as though you are waiting for me to apologise to you. Lionel.' Lionel wrinkled his nosed and shrugged with a flippant wave of his hand.

'We're adults now, Lutrice. You've made your choices and I've made my own. Neither of us can blame the other for that. So how is...?'

'We divorced years ago, Lionel. But you already knew that.' Lionel couldn't help but smile. Of course he had known. He had had played no small part in the divorce settlements either. He had a keen interest in the proceedings, particularly when the issue of a then minor Laeton had come up. It was amazing just how quickly a man can lose interest in his wife and child when he caught the scent of cold cash.

'So, what brings you to my manor, Lutrice?' Lutrice sighed. She supposed it was too much to hope for to have a pleasant talk with her brother for once without his Luthor manner interfering.

'You talk to me as though I am one of your business associates, Lionel.'

'Come, come, Lutrice. You and I haven't chatted since we were children and even in then we had little in common. If you need money...'

'Laeton. I need you take Laeton!' Lionel would never have anticipated the day that his sister would leave him speechless but here it was.

Mama, the bath's free.' Neither one knew just how long the damp Laeton had been standing at the door in her towel but her face gave no indication of her having heard the conversation that she had interrupted. Her eyes were wide and she rubbed one of them like a child woken from sleep.

Don't rub it, Dear. It'll get infected.' Surprisingly, it was Lionel's voice and not that of Lutrice that coddled Laeton. As Lionel rose to greet his niece, Lutrice only watched.

'Is it an eyelash poking you?' Lionel slipped one arm behind Laeton, leaning in close and pulling in the hot, wet smell of bath oil as he bent to blow a stream of air into the girl's eye. She stopped rubbing but didn't flinch as her uncle gently tried to blow away the offending hair. They pulled apart finally, Lionel suddenly aware that his sister was watching them, Laeton not really moving at all, save to rub her eye again.

'No, it's just shampoo!' is all she said as she padded out of the room in search of her cousin.