“Oh! They’re...adorable! Very colorful!” Kookimarissia exclaimed, careful not to jostle the babies on each of her breasts as she reached to accept the gifts.
“I usually don’t see that many colors mixing until my tenth beer,” muttered Andrelious gruffly from his chair.
“Keep drinking that much, and you won’t see much at all,” sniffed the Miraluka, her arm still extended as she proffered two tiny little outfits.
The Imperial gave a grunting snort and waved a hand, sipping his drink. Some chatter floated around the cantina, the very place the girls had been born. Streamers hung from the ceiling, and food was passed around. Atyiru waved to Celevon. The Obelisk, at the bar, lifted his drink in a cheery salute.
“Well, I think they’re lovely. Thank you, Master,” Kooki said tiredly, smiling. Atyiru smiled back, hugging the woman gently, touching the twins’ cheeks.
“You’re welcome, my dear. And many blessings upon you all.” Her grin turned a little shy. “I hope they fit well. I had their measurements, of course, but you never know exactly when you’re knitting…”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Kooki assured.
“I’m glad,” the Aedile stood, clapping her hands together. “Especially since I was torn between two ideas…”
“What was the other?” asked Andrelious.
“A miniature melon-baller. Miraluka tradition dictates the key to happiness is never to see how horrible your life’s become! And, well, all things considered...”
And with that, Atyiru grinned sheepishly and sprinted out the door. Andrelious, furious, ran shortly after her.