Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. Or Bush Hill House. Or the Ritz. Or the Jurassic movie series. Or Hunte's Gardens.

Warning: Profanity. Some stereotypes. Some OCs for the sake of plot. Some inevitable inaccuracies (historically, culturally, linguistically, and grammatically). Implied child neglect. Brief references to Roman slavery, Celtic slavery, and slavery in the colonies. Different countries have rules about which video games are allowed there. Some ferries are super stringent about ID-ing little kids other are not—it's a mixed bag. Seasickness. Miscommunications. Parents that yell…and then feel bad about it. Neglect. Not everyone is cut out for child-rearing (does NOT make them bad people though they shouldn't volunteer themselves if they know they aren't good at it). References to smuggling because Barbados totally did this with the U.S. (During colonial times to the Revolution to Prohibition, etc.)

AN: Thank you for reading!

Congratulations, byakuya love! Hope your first day went well! My experience has been kinda o_o so far. I'm caught between "Yeah, I did the thing!" And "My God, what have I done?" XD Especially right now where I'm juggling Grad School, work, and the flu. X_X

Thank you for your well wishes on RL developments, I appreciate it!

(Thanks, Liv, ahhh, I'm still mostly excited…there's just a slight whiff of doom!)

Let's celebrate with a chapter where I "make people SAAAAD" (the more potent kind of sad—thank you for defining it for us all, Amerikia XDDD)

ScarletNightCrawler! There you are!

Super stoked to see you onboard for this one! ^_^

Chapter 3: Stiff Upper Lip

España was in the park feeding ducks with a cell phone pressed to his ear. His ear felt hot and sore, but he couldn't stop smiling; he'd gotten a phone call from Tejas every other day this week, not even Cuba called that often.

And when he'd asked if Tejas really did talk to Alfred everyday when he could, he'd gotten a testy, "Well yeah, we've got an unlimited plan. Has no one set one of those up for you?"

All of his children had gone through a chatty phase; mostly as toddlers, others as little children, and a few as tweens.

Which wasn't to say his children weren't talkative now, but not in that what was the phrase now? Something with a firehose drink? Drinking from a…?

Tejas was a chatty teenager. Possibly the chattiest teen Antonio had ever had once he got going.

Tejas got excited about things. He was a bit of a gossip. He had the sharp ears of a nosy abuela without the prudence of being an elder. He'd discern something and then share it. Immediately.

He was a young eighteen year old who tried to pass himself off as older which, under the right circumstances, he could. He just couldn't hold it. Antonio was going to need another look at his son's passport. He'd only gotten a brief glimpse of it last December, but he had a strong feeling it was wrong and that it said he was in his 20's.

He'd already confiscated one fake ID from his son a few months ago, but if he wanted that behavior to stop…they needed a closer relationship.

His son had made mention of nicotine addiction and clearly had a weakness for alcohol if he was willing to break his own state's regulations.

Antonio had grown children who smoked. He had grown children who drank. Those children didn't set sofas on fire or get into brawls at the drop of a hat.

They went to clubs and danced and flirted with people. And they always took a cab or called him in a moment of nostalgic affection and he'd arrange for the cab for them.

He'd seen Tejas intoxicated; he binged and became aggressive.

It was very likely that when he smoked…he chain-smoked. He could guess that he got aggressive then, too.

He'd talked with Lovino about it.

"They probably like him that way," Romano muttered as he put dishes haphazardly away.

España tried not to grimace—he'd have to rearrange things after Lovi left. The younger man was trying to be helpful because Antonio's spirits were still low.

"What do you mean?"

Lovi shrugged. "Through the years, his military needed him to be aggressive. Had to keep up with America as they picked fights with everybody everywhere."

"Aggressive…?"

He remembered a subdued Tejas who would escape the clamor of horseplay by sitting with him.

Small fingers would tug at his breeches by the knee. He'd set his goblet down and pull the child onto his lap, wrapping a secure arm around him.

He'd allow it because he'd been at a loss of what to do with this one…what he could do…since the child was so delicate.

Tejas hadn't been toughening up and Antonio did not want the other children injuring him with rough play.

But he didn't want him bored. Antonio didn't want to be bored by the child either. It was tricky.

So…timid. Quiet. Still.

As Antonio had demanded as a condition of sitting with him…

And he felt frustrated with himself centuries later; the more he remembered and thought it over, out from under the crushing pressure from his rulers, and rivalry with his peers, and rising fear of the uncharted spaces. Out from under the haze of rum in the sweltering, humid heat of the New World…

Curse him, he'd gotten frustrated with Tejas for doing exactly as he asked—being quiet and behaved and—

Obedient.

Young Tejas had been fairly obedient and docile and when he wasn't, when Junior got excited and nosy and poked around with gusto and was clumsy—

España got frustrated with him.

His poor little one couldn't win with him.

And he'd stare with those big brown eyes at him.

When Antonio had gone to the university to have things translated and spoke with the professors, he'd gotten to talking about Tejas and those stares.

"That's a freeze response," The curator murmured as she gazed over Espana's private collections of artifacts—eyes lingering on his son's portrait.

Antonio frowned. "I don't understand."

"Fight, flight-"

He nodded. He was familiar with those.

"Freeze-"

"…"

"Some even collapse or faint or try to fawn or befriend the threatening presence."

"Too scary…" Echoed in his ears.

"Oye, you there? Papi?"

He startled. "Yes. Yes. Yes. I'm here, mijo."

"Geez. If I'm boring you, say som-"

"Never."

Considering they'd had around two centuries of no contact and limited correspondence before that, Antonio was hungry for news on this one.

"I dunno if I believe you, but…I was…I was saying…um…I was saying—"

And there it was, that halting uncertainty that used to frustrate him because how would Toño ever command a room if he couldn't even hold a conversation with his own parent?

Except, he'd have no such trouble speaking with strangers…

He had trouble speaking to his familia and would rather estrange himself than try.

It hurt.

Not nearly so much as thinking him dead, but it hurt.

And it still felt cruel.

Yes, Antonio had talked too much about strength; the ability to take a blow and how to shake it off and keep fighting. And he'd fretted over how little Tejas would survive when that time for strength was needed. Because it was something he understood. Something he could impart that could protect his children.

He tried to teach some rudimentary fighting skills to them all.

He'd deliver soft taps to the head or chest when Toni didn't block correctly.

And he'd sigh when Tejas couldn't deliver hard enough hits to Antonio's open palms. And Antonio would complain thinking that was an easy way to incentivize improvement.

It didn't occur that Tejas's docility might've been because he didn't want to hurt his Papi.

In the interactions he'd watched of Tejas and Alfred, they were almost always gentle with one another. They could be affectionate without mockery. They could disagree and not hold it against one another. They could be wrong and laugh about it.

He'd messed up. He kept thinking back to May and things his son had told him. He'd let a very young Tejas think he was a disappointment. And it stayed with him for centuries.

But faking his death?!

Still, didn't it fit into what he'd been trying to teach?

Without ever laying a hand on him, Tejas showed he'd learned the lesson. He delivered a blow that cut his father down. He'd never recovered from it.

Such cold ruthlessness…

Did I teach you that, mijo?

That was supposed to be a last resort… and for enemies…did you think we were enemies?

"Tell me, Tonito," he offered as gently as he could.

"I was terrible with those Model T's, but Al can give such a salesman pitch, you'll fork over cash for one of his whims. He's so good at that. Still, when the brake gave out and we were going downhill-Uh, I mean, we didn't die or nothing. But it probably makes us sound kinda irresponsible if I say this stuff—"

"Papi sailed with no longitude for a long time mi pequenito. El historias Portugal and I can tell you, we were so competitive."

"R-really?"

"Yes, yes, yes." A lot of horses were lost as the result of not understanding how the winds and currents worked.

"Al and I get competitive sometimes."

"Oh?"

"Papi, do you game?"

"I like games."

"Uh, I mean, video games…that aren't soccer? Or football?"

"…Car games." He wasn't sure if he should voice it. Some of his niños got upset seeing ones their countries had banned in his collection.

"Mario Kart?"

"Yes." Safe answer. He did like that one, so it wasn't lying even if it wasn't completely truthful—

"Grand Theft Auto?" Tex guessed.

"Don't tell Venezuela."

Alfred squealed with laughter as Olivia tickled him—her bracelets jangled with the movement and she was careful not to scratch him with her bright acrylic nails.

They'd arranged a few chairs, draped blankets over them, turned the lights off, and then used a flashlight and alternated between scary stories and silly stories. One would narrate and the other would make shadow puppets using their hands to accompany the plot.

But they really all became silly stories because nothing could leech the scary out of something like the creepy Steel Donkey that Barbados was talking about than making a deer silhouette as the titular character.

"That is not a donkey!"

Between giggles, Alfred reached up to make a duck shadow instead.

"You!" She tickled him again.

The last three days had been fun!

Olivia had brought coloring books and supplies, bubbles and different bubble wands, a battery powered rotating disco ball nightlight, a really big puzzle, three different travel-sized board games, and stickers.

Plus, she was good at making Uncle Reilley pick up the grocery items she wanted.

As a result, they'd had baking adventures with fish cakes, jam puffs, hand pies, and braided bread.

She'd also brought him a lot of pamphlets about her home.

Alfred kept taking them back out and looking at the Bush Hill House one. George Washington had been there with his brother…it would be so neat to travel there.

There was another ad promoting Hunte's Gardens and others that had festivals!

She could really talk up her coasts and all the fun activities there.

Olivia had even said a bit defensively, "I can get my hair styled for adventures. I like snorkeling and there are some fun caves to explore. The water is so nice and clear."

She was aware she came off as a girly girl that only liked highline luxe stuff.

When he'd asked, "Are there sharks?"

She didn't mock him.

"Not close to the shore. You'd have to be far out and even then, very rare. You have lots of sharks."

He nodded. "The sea is dangerous."

He'd never love it the way Arthur did.

She set a hand on his shoulder. "I would tell you what you need to know to be safe in the waters of my home."

Alfred fidgeted, knowing he'd need to disclose this fact before she dreamed up something too intensive for them to do in the future. "Don't report this to Arthur when you see him."

"I can't promise that."

His cheeks puffed.

She smiled apologetically.

He sighed. "It's just…I'm…not as strong of a swimmer anymore."

He hadn't done so good after that impromptu cliff dive into the Atlantic last October and months later, after falling through the ice at Kirkland Manor—had fallen short again. Then! Tex had to help him out when they sabotaged their raft last May.

Her eyebrows rose a bit as he described those situations.

"Did you…think you would do…well?

"I'm the hero."

"Right."

He sighed. "Arthur didn't have trouble. Mattie didn't have trouble. Tex didn't have trouble. I had trouble. And I had to rely on all of them."

"It's frustrating?"

"It's-it's super frustrating!"

"Maybe a swim class would help?" She suggested.

"Huh?"

Barbados chewed at her bottom lip for a moment before saying, "Those sounded like… intense times to swim."

He shrugged. "I guess."

"And your body has changed. You probably need to practice lots of things to acclimate. Maybe some regular practicing would make it easier? Maybe it could be fun again? Instead of just a survival skill?"

Fun? A lot of his hero-ing skills were necessities hard won in tough make-or-break scenarios and military training and seminars abroad where his nation or others were depending on him to learn something of value.

He liked learning things. Learning was fun.

But learning without having a suffocating cloud of pressure bearing down on him or some sense of doom or nerve-wracking deadlines closing in fast…

He double-checked with her that that's what she meant.

His counselor had been pretty blunt in encouraging him to verify things so he didn't have as many misunderstandings.

"Yes, Alfie. Fun-learning. The kind where you go at your own pace because there aren't deadly consequences if you don't succeed on the first try."

He repeated back, "You can make mistakes and it's okay?"

"…Yes…yes, exactly."

"No one gets to laugh me at though. I'll probably have to wear sissy safety stuff."

"Agreed. They'll deal with me," she replied coolly.

He nodded—slowly at first and then more vigorously. "They do make lots of cool swimming stuff!"

She nodded enthusiastically and began showing him things on her phone, stretching the cord as far as the charger would allow: fun inflatable toys that floated and some of them lit up!

A while later, as they looked at pictures of flamingos and flamingo-themed merchandise, Alfred admitted, "I get nervous being on a boat. It's getting worse now that I…remember everything…Boat rides with Harris were the worst…"

She gave a powerful frown. "Have you told them? Rhys? Reilley? Alistair?"

He shook his head. "They know I throw up. Seasickness. This is just extra discomfort on top."

"Tell them. I'll tell them. You want me to tell them?"

Alfred sighed. "You know I'm in a rough spot. It won't matter. It's the best mode of transportation right now. And…I don't want to be a whiner."

It was the least he could do at this point.

"They can make sure you have medicine and if there's a different mode of transportation, to take it."

She looked so fierce right then, Alfred had complete confidence in her.

"Alright," he agreed, "…You can tell them."

"I will."

Barbados yawned and stretched before removing her bracelets. The jewelry was set aside in a small beaded pouch.

She carefully checked her teal sleep cap to make sure it hadn't been jostled too much from playing around.

When she was satisfied that it was still in place, she said, "It's getting late, Alfie."

"Aww."

"Time for bed." She turned the nightlight on and her flashlight off and they settled into the bedding beneath their fort.

Staring up at the rotating light patterns that were being thrown against the pilling beige blanket overhead, he admitted, "I miss Arthur."

She stretched an arm out to settle around him. "Me, too."

"I'm glad you're here, though." He didn't want her to think he was ungrateful.

Everything was just…tough right now and he was having a hard time trying to rally himself up for it.

"So then, you are going to take up my offer and come visit me after we get your passport situation fixed?"

Alfred smiled and snuggled closer to her. She smelled like ocean spray and tropical flowers and laundry detergent (since she hadn't packed a lot of clothes and had to keep rewashing them).

She was like a living air freshener in Uncle Reilley's dingy boozy place.

"I'd like that," he replied softly.

"Then, it's settled. You come visit me. I'll teach you some Bajanisms."

Texas had been using his phone's loudspeaker to keep his hands free as he worked.

He set a bale of hay down and sat on it because he deserved a little break.

Ugh. He was sweating hard.

It was going to be another long night just to try and break even with his ever growing list of to do's.

His father's voice rang out: "Can we use video? I like video with the others. I…I would like to see you."

It sounded less like a request and more like an order. Spain seemed to realize that, too, and a "por favor" was tacked on a few minutes later.

"Uhhh…" It wasn't a good idea though. Not right now.

"Toni?"

He grimaced. "…"

"Toni?"

Think, Tex! Think!

"Mijo, I'm worried now."

"Don't judge me."

He picked his phone up and changed it to over to video chat.

He wasn't shaved, his hair was messy, and his clothes were stained, rank, and ripped up. He was wearing his rosary though, his fingers kept tangling in the strand of beads.

His father was quiet for a moment and then flatly declared, "You need Papi to visit."

His face heated up. "No! No. I'm fine. And you're judging and I asked you not to-"

"You are not fine."

"Just a rough patch and a little low-"

"I come over."

"I miss Al! That's all. That's all it is. We've been apart a lot. Wendigo. Yule. Now. And it's summer. Juanita's twins graduated and they're celebrating with a vacation. Julio and Erin are out sick. Alejandro is on his honeymoon. Kitty's on maternity leave. Tina is out at an agricultural and livestock convention gettin' info for us here. Cole quit. Had to fire Ted and Emanuel. Don't wanna get into the details right now. And Tim retired. …He's allowed to do that, but, Goddammit, I miss him. I need to hire, I know I do, but there's a million things that need to be done first before—"

"Are you working your ranch ALL alone?" The Spaniard sounded horrified.

Texas flinched. "…"

"Antonio Fernández Carriedo II, I asked you a question. I expect an answer."

"…" Al was the fast talker. Al would've been able to schmooze this. Al could've—

"¡Contéstame!"

"…Sí, señor…" But what could he say?

"Explícamelo." Green eyes flashed angrily.

The fact that this was a screen and the real thing was miles away wasn't quite enough to assure Tex.

He nearly dropped the phone. "…Um…uh…umm…"

Spain closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and growled, "Por favor."

"It's…my fault. Perfect storm. Things got pushed back while I helped Stuart round up papers for Al. A lot of my folks here delayed things for me. I just didn't expect Cole to up and…after I fired those two—I got less than a week and then I get Tina and Juanita back. Erin and Julio could feel better anytime. Then, Alejandro's back. It's like dodgeball. I just have to last a little bit longer. And then I can set up interviews. I'll be okay. And then, I have the Australia trip and I'll see ya then."

Maybe if he threw out a quick "love you, busy, talk later," he could stall out the scolding? It worked with his congressmen sometimes.

"Antonio."

Nope, that lecture was coming in full steam. Woo, wooooo!

He still tried to change the rails.

"It's fine. It's not the work. I've done this work for centuries. I mean, yeah, I'm tired. Tch. Yeah. Understatement-"

"Antonio-"

"-But really I just…I just need somebody to talk to and you're helping me with that. Can't you just keep helping me that way? I don't need that much-"

"Tonito, I will help you. You'll see me soon. I am coming over. You go rest now. No operating anything dangerous while you are tired. Okay? For Papi? Ahora, prométeme que-"

Tex sighed. Hearing all this should've been patronizing.

"Toni? Promise Papi. Toni?! It is IMPORTANTE!"

Why did he feel relieved?

When was the last time someone really cared if he was worn out?

His mouth trembled.

"Sorrysorrysorry. I keep raising my voice. Papi is sorry. I am not trying to scare you, mi pequeño niñito."

Huh?

Crap.

That's right! The video was still on.

Alistair weathered a glare from Olivia. His nephew was cuddled up under her arm, dozing.

Her phone had been playing an action movie with dinosaurs? She paused it. It was probably an attempt to catch Alfred up on films he'd missed in 2015 via bingeing summer blockbusters.

But he'd fallen asleep.

"I know," Alistair agreed.

Alfred needed companionship. It was clear that Olivia was having a good effect on him. He could tell by the plates in the kitchen sink; Alfred's appetite was reviving.

It really was a shame to cut this visit short.

"I've arranged some things. Next place he'll be able to stay. Full week. Maybe three more? It'll depend," Alistair explained.

Olivia shook her head. "You're cutting into my time. I was supposed to have two more days with him."

"You really like playing with this crap?" He gestured to the cheap kiddie crafts that were strewn around and scoffed.

A mistake.

Her eyes flashed.

He then vividly remembered the fits she'd throw as a lassie when she didn't get to visit the beach for seashells to add to her collection.

Her voice was soft but dangerous. "Yeah. I really do."

He repressed a shudder. "Look, it's better I take him now. That ginger walloper is no good at this." He motioned with his head to Eire's bedroom. His younger brother was snoring loudly as he slept off his latest pub crawl.

Her shoulders slumped.

Alistair crossed his arms. God, he felt guilty. "I'm not saying the next place is much better, but-"

"O that reassures me. Look, I'm no stranger to this. I can smuggle him, I know it. Why can't he come to the Caribbean? Jamaica and I can outfit him as a tourist and he can visit with everyone there. We can play more Golden Age of Piracy. The others were jealous we had a party without them last December."

Alistair shook his head. "He has to stay out of sight-"

"He's lonely."

Alistair braced himself. "…I…I know."

He just wasn't…good at dealing with it…at engaging in constant daily interactions with others…where there was no time for himself and the moments he found could be interrupted at any time so he couldn't relax.

And his nephew was too fond of him to be angry and too forgiving to hold a grudge.

He expected nothing.

It was almost worse than Arthur, who expected everything.

"How do you know it won't do more? If we don't hide. If we post? If we show his government, our governments, all of us together? Call his friends, too. Ask them to host him? Show them all that we will outlast them. That we will hold strong in the face of attempts to-"

Alistair ran a hand through his hair in agitation. "Lassie, his passport-"

She frowned. "That is a human convention."

"I know. I know. I'm not…disagreeing with yeh... The idea has merit and if he was an adult, I'd let him make the call. Let him choose the risk he wants to field. I cannae."

Her head tilted, not quite understanding him.

"I can't. I know that you're thinking of him as him. His intellect. His spirit. He'd probably agree with you. But…" He gestured at the child beside her. "He's not grown. He's just brave. I can't let him walk into that if it goes badly."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "You're worried if there was one weak link…"

It was more than that.

"I'm worried that they know he can be overpowered and he's a strong lad. It can be done and not just at the hands of other personifications. Humans can overpower him. Can overpower us. With enough foresight and resources. That's dangerous knowledge there. If it's distributed…"

"I don't like him being shut away in the dark. It's hurting him."

"We're keeping him safe for Arthur. 'Til his return."

"Keeping him? So he is a prisoner?"

He took that on the chin. "I need him safe until Arthur comes back. I can't do anything else but this right now."

He hated that more than she'd ever know.

He swallowed. "At the next place…at the next one, he can be outside. He can run and climb and play his violin."

A disbelieving smile twisted her lips. "You transported his things there? Mr. Yeh-better-pack-light-lads 'n' lasses?"

The Scotsman scowled. "No. Mr. Gray selected a few more things to take over."

"Mr. Gray!?" She replied with hushed excitement. "Is Al going with-"

"No."

Her expression fell and then recovered. "Is he staying at-"

"No. If ye'd give me a minute. He and Mrs. Gray-"

"He's getting the double?!"

"-Will be waiting at the next one. Like you said, he's been lonely. They'll be kind to him."

Her expression softened. "You've been worried."

Of course he'd been worried.

Texas had warned him; when Alfred got really depressed, he ate very little and he slept an awful lot.

It was looking like his nephew had often put on a brave face when interacting with his uncle through low points in the past. Or maybe it was a burning sense of rivalry and spite against Arthur that had bolstered him up?

Weary and without anyone to impress, Alfred folded.

No grand show or sound of emotion, he went quiet and he went still.

It was unnerving.

Alistair was out of his depth.

He'd see if the lad had finished his packet for the counselor. Then, Alistair could drop it off on his behalf and voice a few concerns to the professional.

He needed the child to be kept safe until Arthur could step back in. He also needed his nephew not to implode in on himself in the interim.

The Scotsman sighed. It felt like he was doing his best and it still wasn't near good enough.

America was woozy as the ferry pulled in. He gripped the railing hard with his left hand and tried his damnedest not to dent it by accident.

His legs were weak and his throat was raw. He'd ended up vomiting away the medicine he'd taken earlier and just had to deal. Maybe next time he could ask for the behind-the-ear patch?

"Tell you what? That does the trick in keeping people away from yeh," Alistair noted.

Their fellow ferry-goers gave them a wide berth and seemed to be under the impression that looking directly at Alfred would make his seasickness contagious.

"Handy. I may need to learn to feign this to avoid small talk. You can give me some pointers in a bit, aye?"

Alfred retched into his bucket.

"No one likes a braggart, laddie."

Even when they finally had land back underfoot, it wasn't enough.

The American wasn't ashore three minutes before one last parting wave of nausea overwhelmed him.

He vomited violently into his bucket.

"Can-can I walk it off a bit?" He requested, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

If he went straight into a car right now, there'd be an encore performance.

He could feel it.

His uncle nodded. "Actually, we get to walk a few blocks. There'll be a car waiting for us."

"Kay."

He tried to focus on the sidewalks, on the bricks, on the cobblestones.

If only there was fresh air, but the smell of car exhaust was strong.

"No trees." A shame; they always seemed to help him gain his land legs back.

"There will be trees where we're going," Scotland assured.

He dry heaved twice before managing a weak, "Yay."

"Now, I'll be straight with yeh. Where we're heading is no Ritz. But it's got running water and electricity and a kitchen. But the third floor is haunted," Alistair announced bluntly as he took Alfred's bucket and shook its contents into a public trash-can.

Alfred froze.

What?

Haunted?

Haunted?!

Haunted?!

FRICKIN' HAUNTED?!

"Uncle Al, what the f-!?"

"For your own good, stay off o' that floor and yeh'll be fine. Now, let's find the toilets and we can rinse this pail out. It'll stink up the car if we-"

Everything kept getting worse and worse and worse.

He tried breathing deeply and it didn't help. Nothing helped.

He couldn't do it.

He stopped walking as his breath hitched and his eyes stung.

No.

No more.

No more monsters…

The hero couldn't take anymore right now.

Not when there was no one he could…

He just…couldn't…

And there was no hex or shame to help him now.

"Oi, oi, wait! No, laddie!" Scotland dropped the bucket and it rolled against a chain fence. "I know, I know! I know you want your dadaidh."

Yeah. Yeah, he did. And Tex, too. And a million things more.

"I ken. I do! Please, don't do this."

Alfred sank to his knees.

His uncle made a desperate phone call. "Change of plan, you need to come here now. NOW! He's having a meltdown. I'm no good for this. Please hurry. I know you hear him. He'd wake the dead."

Alistair near-bellowed the street address they were on and paced nervously.

He half-expected to be cursed out in a mix of English and Scots-Gaelic when his uncle abruptly knelt down in front of him because there was no way he wasn't drawing attention to himself right now and he couldn't shut up.

Instead, a heavy hand rested on his head.

"Oh, come now. Stiff upper lip. There'll be trees. Lots of trees. Yeh can climb and run around like a banshee and whatever else you'll get up to outside and you can play with your violin. There'll be more of your toys for us to trip on. Goddamn it, laddie, there'll be peanut butter! I promise. I-I'll let you see my favorite dirk. Please! Please don't cry. Hold it together, little Al, I'm beggin' yeh."

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I brought the SAD!