The laundry was finished early in the evening, so Anselm was able to begin wearing his new things, starting with nightclothes after his shower. Like everything else, they were a bit baggy on him, but it was still better than the same sweater and trousers that were becoming quite ragged after he had worn them for months. He came downstairs, looking significantly better in his nightwear, as well as a soft bathrobe. Dietrich and Moffitt had been talking in the living room, while Markus had decided to go out on a date with Liesel.
"He looks a bit happier, doesn't he?" Moffitt whispered, grinning.
"Yes," Dietrich said. "I think we made good choices today." He stood from the couch, smiling at Anselm. "Am I to assume that you feel better?"
"It's all so warm, Uncle Hans," Anselm said with a smile of his own. "I-I don't hurt as much anymore!"
It was hard to describe in words alone just how heartbreaking that statement was. Dietrich was seeing Anselm less and less as "Konrad's son" and more as his own individual. An individual who had been through things that someone his age shouldn't have. Seeing Anselm smiling and seeing how much he looked like his father made Dietrich wonder what Konrad would have been like if things had been different. He kept his thoughts to himself, though. "That is very good to hear."
"Shall I fix another cup of tea?" Moffitt asked.
"Sure, if Anselm wishes to join us for a bit until bedtime," Dietrich said. He moved to lead Anselm into the living room, then stopped when he noticed the young man staring at the fireplace. It had been lit about a half-hour ago, as that night had brought a slight cold snap. Anselm moved back a little, and Dietrich gently took his shoulder. "Nobody will hurt you here. You are safe with everyone in the house."
Reflexively, Anselm pushed away Dietrich's hand. Part of Dietrich was hurt by the gesture, but he was quick to assume that Anselm didn't want to feel forced into anything. He went back to his place on the couch, giving Anselm complete freedom of movement. It did hurt to see Anselm's joy at having warm clothing replaced with the same fear that plagued his expression since the first day Dietrich met him.
Moffitt returned from the kitchen with a cup of tea, but before he could enter the room, he said, "It's just me behind you, Anselm." The lanky Englishman paused by him, holding out the tea. "Ever have passionflower?"
"No," Anselm said. "Herbal tea is still new to me. I've only ever had chamomile."
"It's good for sleep, and said to help with bad dreams. I'm not sure how true that is, but… I always like to make a cup when I'm having a rough sleep. In a way, it does help. It's comforting."
Anselm nodded, then took a sip. He took a moment to think. "It will take some getting used to, but it's not bad. Thanks."
"Anytime." Moffitt went back to the couch, picking up his own tea before looking at Dietrich. "What were we talking about?"
"You were telling me about the trip down the Nile that you took with your father in 1934," Dietrich said.
"Oh, yes." Moffitt took on a wistful look as he returned to his memories. "Now, where did I leave off… ah! The morning I saw what was quite possibly the most beautiful thing in the world—at the time. Vanora is the most beautiful sight in the world now. Anyway, my father got me up very early, and I do mean very early. I think it was around four in the morning. We were taking a boat down to a dig site in Upper Egypt. An early start was my father's preference. I wasn't too fond of this most of the time. The sunrise on the Nile was worth it. The colors of the sky blending with the sand and the rich greens of the vegetation lining that great river. Seeing the people and animals all around. Oh, it was spectacular. One of these days, I'll go experience it again."
As Moffitt continued his story, Dietrich kept his attention on his friend, not noticing that Anselm had chosen, on his own accord, to sit next to him. He glanced at Anselm, but maintained his focus on Moffitt. A great deal of time passed, as Moffitt quite enjoyed being a storyteller. At one point, though, Dietrich felt a weight against his right shoulder. In the corner of his vision, he saw Anselm had fallen asleep. Moffitt's gaze didn't fall on Anselm until he finished his story, and he lowered his voice. "Dietrich? Have you noticed—"
"Yes. I noticed," Dietrich whispered. "He feels safe."
"That's good. I almost feel bad we'll have to wake him." Moffitt gathered up the empty teacups and plates to bring them into the kitchen.
Dietrich took care of gently waking Anselm, and got him upstairs to bed without issue. He returned to the living room to find Moffitt laying down on the couch after getting his pillow.
"You know, I'm glad we're going back to Hammelburg tomorrow—I left my luggage in your living room," Moffitt said. "Been wearing the same clothes for three bloody days."
"We did worse in North Africa," Dietrich replied, sitting in the recliner.
"Oh, yes. On one hand, moving operations to Italy meant being able to do laundry more regularly, on the other—" Moffitt shuddered. "My bloody allergies came back."
Dietrich smirked, then his thoughts turned to Anselm. "At least we had some opportunities to change clothes in the desert. Anselm had it far worse than either of us."
Moffitt nodded, his expression sobering. "I'm glad he's been making the progress he has. That boa really did say that he thought Anselm looked lonely."
"I am more worried about Markus now, than Anselm."
"Why?"
"He has been hesitant to interact with Anselm, because of Konrad. He does not trust Anselm yet. I said earlier that he is going to have to trust him if Esther decides she does not want to take Anselm in."
"I think Esther will take to Anselm once she sees how you've bonded with him."
"I hope so. I do not want to feel like I have to choose between the people I care about."
"That's never an easy position to be caught in. We'll figure it out, no matter what happens."
"I appreciate that, Moffitt." Dietrich drew in a breath. "I cannot bear the thought of Anselm being thrown out of both homes, or made to stay somewhere with people who do not like him. Esther… Esther has her fair share of bad incidents in the past. She used to be very trusting, which landed her in relationships with people who did not treat her well, to say the least."
"She got lucky with you."
"I think that luck went both ways. She started to become quite mistrustful after her last boyfriend. It took her time to trust me. That all worked out, fortunately, but I can understand why she is exercising a greater deal of caution with Anselm. He has not exactly made a good impression on her."
"And she hasn't even met him yet."
"No." Dietrich was quiet for a moment. "I never thought I would find love. Ever. I never thought I deserved it."
"It really was sweet when it became obvious to the rest of us that you had fallen in love. You were distracted, in a good way. The way you talked about Esther made it very clear, even though you denied it—all while blushing."
Dietrich shook his head. "Why do you remember that?"
"Because it was good to see after the long fight you've endured with your depression."
"Alright. I suppose that is a worthy reason to remember."
"We'll find a way to make everything work," Moffitt said. "You won't lose Esther or Anselm."
"I hope not."
Dietrich noticed Markus seemed quieter than usual the next morning. His brother was doing his best to put on a good face for his children when they talked to him while getting ready for school, but it was painfully obvious that his mind was elsewhere. Unfortunately for Dietrich, Markus was going back to work that day, so they wouldn't have time to talk until later that evening. As determined as Dietrich was to get things sorted, he decided to focus on Anselm first. There were so many approaching unknowns, and Dietrich felt the best he could do at that point was pray that everything would go alright.
After Markus and his family left for the day, Dietrich, Moffitt, and Anselm finished their breakfasts and went out to Dietrich's car to make the long drive up to Hammelburg. "The trip will be about three hours," Dietrich explained. "Will you be alright with that, Anselm?"
"Am I allowed to ask for a break?" Anselm asked.
"Of course you are."
"Thanks." Anselm got in the back of the vehicle. "It beats walking."
"I think you have done enough walking for a little while."
"I will give it one thing—it's very pretty here. Maybe later, we can do some walking."
"Oh, certainly. I have done a great deal of walking throughout Bavaria. It is a good way to do some thinking and to clear my head a little."
Anselm went quiet, his expression thoughtful. "Mother mentioned that Father was originally from a different city. Is that true?"
"Yes. We were all born in Kiel. I was about five or six when we moved to Munich."
"Have you ever gone back there?"
"No. I have thought about it, though." Not very much. In truth, Dietrich's interest in seeing the city he was born wasn't high. It was difficult enough seeing his parents' house again, the place where the majority of his ill-treatment took place. Perhaps, he felt, it was something he needed to do to continue healing. He had come this far, after all.
They drove for about an hour before Anselm began feeling restless. Dietrich made a stop near a quiet little village to give them all a chance to stretch their legs. He leaned against the side of the car before taking out his cigarettes, lighting it while watching Anselm. Moffitt had found a sunny spot between trees to sit, while Anselm was standing near the car, looking a little unsure. He moved closer to Dietrich, and sank down to sit in the grass.
"Everything alright?" Dietrich asked.
Anselm nodded.
"Honest?"
Now Anselm didn't look sure.
"Overwhelmed?"
"Perhaps a little."
Dietrich sat down next to him. "We do not have to keep going right away. Take your time. Are you cold?"
"Yes."
Dietrich took off his jacket to give it to Anselm once more. "I promise, my house is warm." He wanted to continue, to say, "You will never have to worry about being out in the cold again." He didn't, because he wasn't sure if that was true. No. No, it does not matter what Esther or Markus say. I am not letting Anselm suffer any longer. I will not let him be left to the streets, or thrown in an orphanage until he turns 21. Dietrich took a breath, trying not to think too much about things that he didn't know would happen. He distracted himself by taking a draw on his cigarette and exhaling smoke into the breeze.
Their rest stop lasted about fifteen minutes, then they continued on their drive north. Anselm was quiet for the next couple of hours, but as they drew nearer to Hammelburg, Dietrich noticed Anselm's gaze becoming vacant. He looked at Moffitt. "Are you getting hungry?"
"We're almost to the house, aren't we?" Moffitt asked.
"Yes, but—" Dietrich gestured over his shoulder.
"How far are we from home?"
"Twenty minutes, I think."
"Then I think he'll be okay."
Dietrich wasn't too fond of making Anselm wait, but figured this was something so minor that it wasn't worth getting anxious over. He felt relieved when he pulled into the driveway of his own home. After getting out, he spotted Esther in the garden, with Gunther sitting nearby while she worked. "Hello, my angel!" Dietrich called.
Esther smiled at the sound of her husband's voice. "Hello, Hans!"
Gunther squealed with delight when he saw his father, and continued to laugh when Dietrich knelt to pick him up. "And how are you? Are you behaving? Driving your mother crazy?" Dietrich gave the baby a gentle hug. "I missed you." He smirked at Esther before going over to kiss her. "And you, especially."
"Oh, I missed you, too." Esther set her trowel down before turning to give Dietrich a more proper kiss. Her smile faded when Anselm stepped through the gate, and she glanced at her husband. "Is that him?"
"Yes. That is Anselm," Dietrich replied.
Anselm briefly looked at Esther, but quickly went back to staring at the ground.
"He has made considerable progress over the last couple of days. All I ask is that you give him a chance, please."
Esther looked at Anselm, then back at Dietrich. "Fine. I will give him a chance, but he is never to be left with Gunther unsupervised. Speaking of which—" Esther gently took Gunther from Dietrich. "Moffitt, could you please watch him while we—" she gave a rather cold look to Anselm, "—get acquainted inside?"
"Sure." Moffitt shifted Gunther in his arms, and exchanged a look with Dietrich and Anselm, before mouthing, "Good luck" to both of them.
The three went inside, where Dietrich sensed Anselm was on the verge of shutting down. He gave Anselm's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then faced his wife. "Esther, I doubt we need to worry about Anselm around the baby."
"Were you not telling me a few days ago that he was going off on how much of a failure you were during the war?" Esther asked.
"Two things: one, he no longer thinks that. Two, what does that have to do with Gunther?"
"I don't trust him, not with what he was raised by."
"So what? I was raised by garbage, too, and I turned out alright—well, mostly. I knew for a long time that I was not going to act like my parents or my brothers."
Esther still maintained a glare in Anselm's direction. "I want to see this change for myself."
"This is not what he needs right now. Whether you like it or not, I am going to continue treating Anselm as one of us."
"Are you going to be surprised if this turns out to be a lie?"
"As a matter of fact, yes, I would! I will not force you to look at this like I am, but I expect civil behavior from everyone here, and I do mean everyone. That goes for you and Anselm." Dietrich switched his gaze between his wife and his nephew. "Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, sir," Anselm muttered.
"I will be civil as long as he is," Esther said.
Good enough. Dietrich tried to relax. "Alright. Anselm, where—"
They all froze at the sound of someone shouting in pain in the backyard. Dietrich and Esther rushed over to the window to see Moffitt was in the grass, lying on his stomach, with Gunther sitting on his back and pulling his left ear.
"Oh, dear. I'll be right back." Esther raced out the back door to get Gunther to let go of Moffitt's ear.
Dietrich and Anselm exchanged a look, then Dietrich said, "As I was saying, where is your medication?"
"It's still in your car. Sorry," Anselm replied.
"No need to apologize. Could you go get it, please?" Dietrich began searching the kitchen for something for Anselm to eat, and came across a frosted marble cake in the refrigerator. Oh, Esther… you know this cake never lasts long. Dietrich pulled the cake out, and glanced around to ensure he was alone before cutting a slice. He picked up the slice with a napkin before taking as big a bite as possible, moaning with pleasure at how soft, rich, and flavorful the cake was. He was in the process of taking another bite when Anselm re-entered the house, and his face flushed red. "You saw nothing," Dietrich said.
"No, I think I see everything," Anselm said, setting his pill bottles on the counter. "Could I have a slice?"
Dietrich pushed the cake dish in Anselm's direction. "Take as much as you want."
Anselm cut a generous slice of his own, and glanced at Dietrich before getting a napkin to pick it up.
"No, you use a fork," Dietrich said with his mouth full.
"Why aren't you using a fork, then?"
"Because I do not want to."
Anselm shrugged, biting into his cake. "It's really good."
"You—We will have to thank Esther for it." Dietrich froze when he heard the back door open.
"Hans Dietrich! I made that cake for later!" Esther said. "Get out of there!" She looked at Anselm. "You, too! Out!"
"And I was just saying that we were going to thank you for this wonderful cake," Dietrich said.
"You're welcome, but you are still in trouble, Hans."
"I love you, Esther."
"That doesn't always work, Dietrich," Moffitt said. "I've tried. Still got threatened with the couch."
"At least Vanora and Esther are not like Shauna. She hits Troy with oven mitts if he is being a pain."
Esther sighed, took an oven mitt out of a drawer, and slapped Dietrich's right arm with it.
"Ow! Hey!"
Moffitt gave them both a look. "To be fair, you asked for it by saying something. Could I get in to make my tea, please?"
"Sure." Dietrich stepped aside. "Can I ask what happened outside with Gunther?"
"I made the mistake of lying down while he was crawling, and he decided to crawl on me. He's very grabby."
"That's what babies do at this age," Esther said.
"Yes, I remember Jules liked grabbing my nose and laughing about it when he was that small," Dietrich added.
"Jules was never that small," Moffitt said. "I'm already anticipating him to surpass me in height over the next few years."
Dietrich sighed. "True." He left the kitchen to finish the rest of his cake, finding Anselm standing by the dining room table. "You can sit if you like."
Anselm nodded, looking a lot less happy than he had been when it was just him and Dietrich.
"It may take a little time, but Esther will warm up to you," Dietrich whispered.
"Are you sure this isn't going to ruin things?" Anselm gestured to the cake.
"That is nothing," Dietrich said with a snort. "All it says is that you are picking up bad habits from me."
The tiniest of smiles tugged at the edges of Anselm's mouth, but there was an overall air of uncertainty surrounding him.
Life in the house quieted down over the remainder of the day, apart from Gunther's occasional sounds. Dietrich pondered calling Markus while helping clean up after dinner. He hoped his brother was alright. It pained him to have left while there were things that remained unresolved. After setting the last dish in the drying rack, Dietrich wiped his hands with a towel, and went over to the phone to dial Markus's number. He was calm while waiting for Markus to pick up, hoping that this would go well. Over a year ago, he never thought he would be trying to put his blood family back together and guiding them in a better direction. He never thought it would be something he wanted. The opportunity presented itself, and now Dietrich was determined for it to go well.
It was Liesel who answered, and went to get Markus. He sounded very tired while saying, "Hello, Hans. Everything alright?"
"Everything is fine, for the most part," Dietrich replied. "Esther is suspicious of Anselm, but I think it will just take a little time for her to trust him."
Markus was quiet, then gave a sigh. "Is that what this call is about? Anselm?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, it is. We are going to get this resolved."
"Get what resolved?"
"Your issues with Anselm."
"I don't have 'issues' with him. You were treated the worst by Konrad. I don't understand how you can—"
"Anselm is not Konrad! Will you get that through your thick head already?! I cannot understand why despite everything that has happened over the last several days, you still insist on seeing him as nothing more than a miniature version of Konrad."
"He certainly seemed that way when you first came over!"
"And he has changed. You were willing to help him, too, you know!"
"Every time I look at him, I see our bastard of a brother," Markus growled.
"That is what you want to condemn Anselm for? Your own personal issues? He cannot control who he resembles. You really want to not trust him over that?"
More silence. "I don't… know. I really… don't. You told Anselm you were not going to force him to see things how we do, but you sound like you want to force me to look at Anselm the way you do."
"I want what is best for him."
"And you told him this was going to be a two-way street. He has to be able to understand us, and we have to be able to understand him. Frankly, I think you've gotten too attached to him to make rational decisions in regards to this. I just… need some time. I need to think about this on my own for a little while."
"Markus—"
"This isn't goodbye, Hans. I will call or visit when I am ready. For now… please let me think."
Dietrich bit back a hundred things he wanted to say, and not all of them were nice. He gave a sigh of his own. "Fine." He hung up the phone, then rubbed his face and resisted the urge to let out a growl of frustration. After standing in the kitchen for a moment, Dietrich stormed outside. The sun was slowly starting to set, causing the house to cast a long shadow over the backyard. Warm colors were beginning to spread over the sky, but Dietrich kept his gaze on the ground as he slumped into a chair. He wasn't alone for very long, as Moffitt came out to join him a couple of minutes later.
It was quiet apart from crickets chirping. Moffitt looked like he was struggling to come up with something to say, but eventually said, "I heard the conversation. I'm sorry that this is causing problems for you and Markus. You are right; Markus did agree to help Anselm, but it seems… it seems things have gotten to be a bit much for him."
Dietrich stared at the blossoming apple tree in the corner of the yard for a moment. "Why should I give a damn if this destroys my relationship with Markus? I already spent about twenty years not speaking to him. Just go back to the way things were. This past year will have been nothing but a dream."
"I don't think it'll come to that."
"Do not say optimistic things to me if you yourself do not believe what you are saying."
"No, I do believe what I'm saying. I know you don't want this to be the end. You want this to work. You're not going to stop until it works out."
"That is the problem, Moffitt. I feel I have reached a dead end. Nobody is going to trust Anselm. Am I wrong for trusting him? Markus and Esther are right—how do I know this is not an elaborate trick?"
"A trick for what, though? To hurt you? Anselm has no reason for that. What does he have to gain? Not freedom, that's for sure. I don't think he even knows what to do with himself at this point. He needs a mentor, a friend, and a guardian. Most importantly, I think he needs a father-figure. It's not too late for him to have that. He does trust you. You even noticed this last night when he fell asleep against your shoulder. He feels safe with you. He's been without that for just about his entire life so far." Moffitt drew in a breath. "I know even I said that I wasn't fully sure about Anselm, but I changed my mind after watching him with you, and I trust your judgement."
"Do you think Markus is right about me being 'too attached' to Anselm now?"
"Yes and no. I think he is right about how you pointed out that this journey needs to go both ways, but you haven't applied that to Markus. On the other hand, it's not exactly wrong for you to be taking Anselm under your wing. He does need it. I guess…" Moffitt paused to think, "You're having trouble balancing them."
Dietrich nodded. "I want to know what the right thing to do is."
"If I had an answer, I'd give it to you, but I think it would be better to follow Markus's example and just give yourself time to think. Keep taking care of Anselm—"
"There is also the question of Esther."
"You said earlier that it'll take time, so take that time."
Dietrich felt Moffitt was right, but he also felt like he had no other options. He tried to focus on other things as the evening went on, but that was proving difficult with parts of the problem continuing to stare him in the face, whether that be Anselm or Esther. Even after Esther was taking a shower and Anselm was asleep on the couch, leaving Moffitt and Dietrich alone to have a round of chess, Dietrich was struggling to focus. His game went poorly, and after ending the match, Moffitt started packing away the board and pieces, quietly telling Dietrich to go up to bed and get some rest.
The act of actually getting rest was also proving difficult. Dietrich lay awake long after the lights were turned off, staring up at the ceiling and questioning each choice he had made over the last several days. He never thought he would be in such a position for caring about someone. Perhaps it was a mistake. Perhaps Anselm was playing him like a fiddle. But, perhaps not. Dietrich refused to believe that. There was nothing to suggest it was true. All I want is to give him a chance, a new shot at life. Is that really so wrong?
He realized he was failing to consider Markus and Esther's thoughts. They had reasons not to trust Anselm, but Dietrich was torn between giving them consideration or accusing them of being irrational. The more he thought about it, the less he knew what to do. Was there anything he could do? The feeling of being lost gradually increased in intensity, and what made it worse was that Dietrich was beginning to wonder if this was his own fault. He didn't want to think it was his fault, but there mere action of wanting to take care of Anselm had made two people he was close to quite upset. Markus didn't want to talk to him. Esther didn't really talk during dinner, she kept her distance from Anselm, and her affection with Dietrich was minimal. He hoped this was something that would pass, that Esther just needed time to see that Anselm wasn't like his parents. At the same time, Dietrich worried he was approaching a cliff's edge when it came to his family.
He managed to doze off for what felt like not much time. His thoughts of the edge of a cliff seemed to have reawakened the dreams and visions of the abyss. The pitch-black, gaping crack in the earth that he dreamed about falling—or jumping—into so many times during the war, even before he knew about the prophecy. Beforehand, he would hear the voices of his own soldiers accusing him of being the reason they were slaughtered so quickly in North Africa. Now, he could faintly hear Markus and Esther questioning whether or not he was being a fool, questioning if he had come to listen too much to his emotions rather than logic. He felt himself slumping down, kneeling by the edge of the abyss.
When Dietrich opened his eyes, he noticed that he had sat up in his sleep, and was kneeling as he had been in his dream. The ticking of the clock on his nightstand and Esther's soft breathing were the only sounds in the room. Dietrich focused on the clock, albeit briefly. Time was passing, but it felt far too slow. It seemed to be getting slower, and sleep was refusing to come again. Eventually, Dietrich gave up entirely on sleep for that night, and got out of bed. A leaden heaviness had spread throughout his body, and he was dimly aware of the fact that he had completely crashed. Without thinking much, he stood, taking a moment to put socks and a shirt on before going downstairs.
Moffitt and Anselm were both sound asleep in the living room. Dietrich put his boots and jacket on before going outside. The air was cool, much cooler than he normally would have tolerated, but he paid no attention to it. He wasn't even sure why he was out there. Was there a reason? He stood on the doorstep for a moment, staring up at the cloudless night sky. There was no moon out, which made everything much darker. With no goal in mind, Dietrich began walking up the street. He figured that was better than sitting and doing nothing, but it wasn't enough to keep his thoughts at bay.
He had sworn he was going to stand by Anselm no matter what, and hated the fact that he was contemplating whether or not he had made a mistake doing that. There wasn't going to be a compromise, was there? What could Anselm do to show he could be trusted? Was he just going to be accused of faking it and lying every time? Was all of this going to result in Dietrich's family splintering apart once more? Was Anselm going to be blamed for that?
Something lying on the sidewalk in front of him made him stop. A closer look revealed it to be a black and gray common adder. The adder stared up at him, raising its head and remaining motionless apart from a few flicks of its tongue. Dietrich heard someone jogging up behind him, followed by Moffitt's voice.
"Dietrich, come back inside."
Dietrich said nothing in response.
"Please, come with me, before you do something that you regret." Moffitt began guiding Dietrich back to the house, looking back once to whisper a "thanks" to the adder. Once they were back inside, Moffitt made Dietrich sit at the kitchen counter, speaking to him quietly to not wake up anyone else. "Are you alright? I noticed you were very quiet before I told you to go to bed."
It took a moment for Dietrich to form a response. "What can I do that will make everyone happy? Nothing. Everyone… Everyone hates that poor boy. Why? At the same time, are they right and I am wrong? Who is right and who is wrong?"
"You haven't done anything wrong, Dietrich—"
"I feel I am on the verge of losing everything."
"No." Moffitt shook his head. "No, no, no, that's your blasted depression talking. You're not going to lose everything. I'm going to help make sure of that. I'll call Troy if I have to."
Over the last couple of hours, Dietrich had felt like he was drowning, repeatedly dropping below the surface of the water and struggling to get his head back above it. It was strange to think that he had been alright earlier in the day, but everything kept piling up and making it harder for him to feel that he could go on. On one hand, he felt he had to go on, for Anselm. On the other, he didn't know what to do anymore. He quietly accepted Moffitt's help to hold him above the water. Even though the prophecy had been fulfilled three years ago, he knew he could still rely on Moffitt to keep him from wandering toward the abyss again.
The house had been quiet for a little while. Dietrich and Moffitt both turned when a voice asked, "Are you alright, Uncle Hans?"
Anselm was standing in the doorway between the living room and dining room. His expression was one of concern, which Dietrich didn't think he had ever seen on Anselm's face before.
