"Don't worry, Emily has pictures. Actually, I look pretty hot."고소득알바
"You're such a patsy."
Quil shrugged. "Claire had a great time. That was the point."
I rolled my eyes. It was hard being around imprinted people. No matter what stage they were in - about
to tie the knot like Sam or just a much-abused nanny like Quil - the peace and certainty they always radiated was downright puke-inducing.
Claire squealed on his shoulders and pointed at the ground. "Pity wock, Qwil! For me, for me!"
"Which one, kiddo? The red one?"
Quil dropped to his knees - Claire screamed and pulled his hair like a horse's reigns.
"This blue one?"
"No, no, no...," the little girl sang, thrilled with her new game.
The weird part was, Quil was having just as much fun as she was. He didn't have that face on that so many of the tourist dads and moms were wearing - the when-is-nap-time? face. You never saw a real parent so jazzed to play whatever stupid kiddie sport their rugrat could think up. I'd seen Quil play peekaboo for an hour straight without getting bored.
And I couldn't even make fun of him for it - I envied him too much.
Though I did think it sucked that he had a good fourteen years of monkitude ahead of him until Claire was his age - for Quil, at least, it was a good thing werewolves didn't get older. But even all that time didn't seem to bother him much.
"Quil, you ever think about dating?" I asked.
"No, no yewwo!" Claire crowed.
"You know. A real girl. I mean, just for now, right? On your nights off babysitting duty."
Quil stared at me, his mouth hanging open.
"Pity wock! Pity wock!" Claire screamed when he didn't offer her another choice. She smacked him on the head with her little fist.
"Sorry, Claire-bear. How about this pretty purple one?"
"No," she giggled. "No poopoh."
"Give me a clue. I'm begging, kid."
Claire thought it over. "Gween," she finally said.