A/N: Sorry, late again. Real life stuff, holiday stuff, blah. I'm working at getting caught up now, and hopefully I'll be able to stay on time for the rest of these! 19 and 20 will be up in the next few hours.
Things are tense. Awkward. They have been for awhile now, since Jey. But it's the holidays, and Roman does his best to make it good for his children. For his wife. The other members of his family not directly involved in Bloodline business.
Heyman is a constant, wandering around the grounds, always lost in conversation on his phone, or handling Roman's emails, kept so busy with various things that he almost doesn't notice when Hanukkah arrives. He wonders, briefly, but then Jimmy calls with another catastrophe that Paul has to go to Nick Aldis about, and his thoughts are quickly forgotten.
Until Roman comes upon him standing overlooking the lake, lost in thought while he ponders an email he has to send, startling him when he drops a hand on his shoulder. "Oh!" Paul exclaims, turning towards him, surprised. "My Tribal Chief. Is there something you need?"
Roman smirks, a little, the familiar rebuke in his eye about calling him that in a more personal setting, but he shrugs it off. "Galina wanted me to invite you for dinner tonight. Says the kids have a surprise for you."
Children, with surprises, during the holidays, could mean any number of things, but Paul gets along with the children well, so he agrees. "Alright, my- ... Ahem, Roman," he catches himself this time, and Roman's smirk grows.
"See you in there in about an hour," he says, glancing knowingly down at Paul's phone before clapping him on the shoulder once more and taking his leave back towards the house, where his kids' calls echo out to greet him.
Paul hums, finally finds the words for his email, and sends it, before purposely turning his phone off. Staring out a bit longer over the grounds, he eventually turns on his heel and walks back towards the house. "Lady of the house," he greets Galina in a grandiose style that always makes her laugh, Roman huffing goodnaturedly at his flirting before helping the twins into their seats.
Meals at any of the Anoa'i households are loud, hectic, fun and loving. Paul enjoys it whenever he's invited, even though Roman always somehow sticks him between the children, leaving him to moderate their conversations between bites of his own food.
"What are those?" the twins ask, leaning in and staring wide eyed at Paul's plate.
"Latkes," he says, slicing into the pancake and holding a bite out. When one of the twins takes it, he prepares another, chuckling when it too disappears quickly. Once the kids are urged back to their seats, he continues eating, nodding his thanks to Galina. After the meal, they're all sitting around, the kids whispering amongst themselves while the adults relax, enjoying a post-meal drink.
Paul's itching to get back on his phone, put out a few more fires before he retires for the evening, when he feels a soft tap on his knee. He looks up, then down, then around- all four twins are surrounding him, unnerving him a bit. Cute kids, but almost as intimidating as their father with the numbers game! He clears his throat, sits up, stares at them diligently. "How may I help you?"
The kids giggle, whisper some more, then the older twins approach him, boxes in hand. "We have a Hannu- a..." He falters, glances over his shoulder.
"Hannukah," Roman supplies.
"Hannukah," the boy continues with some relief, "surprise for you. You can only open one a day, but this is the first!"
He pushes one of the boxes into Paul's hands, and Paul blinks, glancing around for a moment before prying the box gently open. Inside, there's a book- probably something picked out by Roman or Galina, and Paul smiles down at it, then up at the kids. "Thank you," he says. "I appreciate it." There are seven boxes remaining now and he carefully stacks them up in front of him on the table. "I will make sure to open only one a day," he promises solemnly to the four sets of dark eyes watching him closely.
The boys chatter, then whisper some more before the younger twins look up at him. "Good," one says. "Santa would be mad at you otherwise," the other chimes in, grinning up at him.
Paul merely laughs and reaches down to ruffle both boys' hair, pleased to still be here, to be honored in this way by the Anoa'i family. "Yes, well," he says. "We wouldn't want that, now would we?"