"Mothers, awful creatures sometimes, aren't they?" Comes a new voice from his chosen spot, draped far too casually across a seat in the room. "At least, mine always was. Always lying and murdering her children. Truly horrible wench, honestly."
"Yours, though," He sits up a bit more properly, sets his feet on the ground and leans across his knees to stare up at the girl, a finger pointed in her direction. "Your Mum is practically a saint."
{Oh, darling, don't you know, words wound straight down into a soul?
"Yours, though," He sits up a bit more properly, sets his feet on the ground and leans across his knees to stare up at the girl, a finger pointed in her direction. "Your Mum is practically a saint."