Ishizu walked in with a small suitcase in one hand and Bastet holding her other hand. She pecked Marik on the cheek. "Thanks again for watching her while I go on this business trip."
Bakura snickered, looking up from his place on the couch. "Business trip? Is that what they call a conjugal visit these days?"
"Promise not to teach her any colorful new words this week, Bakura."
"Only if you promise not to come back pregnant."
Bastet's violet eyes grew into two, huge planets. "I want a little brother! Please mommy, get pregnant in New York, okay?"
Ishizu shot Bakura an angry glance.
He smiled at her.
Bastet ran to him and jumped in his lap, making Bakura wince as she kneed him in the stomach.
"Kura!" She strangled him by wrapping her arms around his neck.
Ishizu had done everything in her power to make it "Uncle Bakura," but he'd won that argument, so the child had Uncle Marik, Uncle Rishid, and Kura. For some reason Bastet refused to add the "Ba" to his name, but he put up with it as long as it wasn't "Uncle Kura" – although Marik was starting to pick up the "Kura" nickname and that was a royal pain in Bakura's ass.
Marik waved. "I'll be right back, you two. Bastet, keep Kura out of trouble while I take your mom to the airport."
"Okay." She waved and blew them kisses. When they left, the excitable six-year-old turned towards Bakura. "Let's play salon."
Bakura was not fond of that game. It involved pink nail polish that smelled awful, and a pink lip gloss that looked horrid on his complexion and tasted like plastic. "Let's play Nintendo."
"No, Kura, beauty salon," she said it as it were the most obvious thing in the world and Bakura was an imbecile for not knowing otherwise.
Bakura rolled his eyes and sighed, conceding. It wasn't as fun arguing with the female Ishtars. He liked to save his fights for Marik if he could help it. Bakura sat on the floor so Bastet could yank at his hair with a toy hair brush.