[Well... this one's easy. It's kids playing on a big, green, open field. Funny how the images come to mind so smoothly when he's not tripping over reading the words himself.
He's quiet for a moment after Vergil finishes, eyes closed. Then he opens them to find his father gazing down at him, almost expectantly.]
You have a good voice for that. [First thing that comes to mind for him to say, for some reason. He smiles.] I liked it.
[It's a bit of an odd compliment. Certainly not one Vergil anticipated receiving even if he's had plenty of experiencing reading poems. He says nothing about it though, brushing it aside more in favor of the whole point in reading it to Nero in the first place.]
I take it that means it made more sense to you than reading it for yourself?
[Vergil smiles lightly as he continues combing his fingers through Nero's hair, his amusement at just how quickly Nero is to clarify. His smiles grows a little more as Nero's able to find a more personal connection to the poem.]
I'm glad to hear it, [he says, closing the book and setting it down on the bed beside him.]
[Funny how contented he seems at just the fingers stroking through his short-cropped hair. Almost like a cat who's made himself comfortable on Vergil's lap.
He watches the book get put away and squirms a little.] Is that all I get? Just the one?
[If there's a vague look of surprise on Vergil's face, it's because he genuinely is surprised. Nero only asked for the one to be read, and Vergil assumed that to be the extent of his general tolerance.]
[It does not show in his expression, but Vergil's heart clenches a little at the request even with as much as Nero tries to play it off as not a particularly big deal. And perhaps it's not, but... Not that Vergil would necessarily want Nero to be ill, this is still something that they both missed out on as he grew up.]
Alright, [he says, a little quieter than he meant to be. Vergil picks the book back up, but before he opens it, he nods to the glass Nero is still balancing on himself in his hands.] Are you through with that?
[He'd almost forgotten about the water. Nero is about to hand it over, but he considers for a moment before sitting up enough to drain the rest of the glass. There wasn't all that much left, and he imagines it will make Vergil feel better about his hydration levels.
Once the glass is empty he hands it over and fails at not looking terribly pleased with this scenario as he lies back down, settling in and smiling up at Vergil.]
[Vergil takes his hand from Nero's hair as he sits up, accepting the glass when it's passed and leaning over to place it back on the nightstand. He doesn't say anything, or show it, but he's pleased with Nero finishing off the glass. Much as he would like to encourage Nero to drink even more than that, it's good enough for now and he needs his rest just as much. If he ends up feeling thirsty later or up for it, Vergil can always pour him more then. As Nero settles back in to his lap, Vergil opens the book again. This time, he opens the book to the beginning of the Songs of Innocence of the collection to start there. He glances down at Nero before he begins to read. Judging by the look on Nero's face, he's not certain how effective this will be for getting Nero to sleep necessarily. It seems likely that he will try to fight it even when it starts to reach for him. But he's still lying down at least, and likely to be still. Vergil looks at the book, but there's a smile there as he moves the book to one hand so that he may simultaneously stroke Nero's hair while he reads.]
[Nero settles in comfortably, perfectly content to let Vergil fiddle with his hair as he reads. Yeah, he was right. The guy really does have a wonderful voice for this. And he does enjoy the poems a lot more when he's not stumbling over things like verses, pronunciation of words he's unfamiliar with, or reading the whole thing and feeling like it went straight through him and didn't really land anywhere.
The water stays down, even if he still feels a little bit queasy and feverish. It's hard not to feel the ickiness lessen though, comfortable and warm, feeling the affection of his father. Here he is, a grown-ass man getting read a bedtime story by his dad. The thought occurs to him that this scenario is a first for both of them... and there's a little pang of regret that he never got the chance for this when he was a kid.
Oh well. Better late than never?
He mumbles some feedback for a few of the poems, nothing terribly profound, but appreciation for some imagery or another, or at least the way Vergil read it. It doesn't last too long though. About ten minutes in, Nero stops responding because he's fallen asleep.]
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He's quiet for a moment after Vergil finishes, eyes closed. Then he opens them to find his father gazing down at him, almost expectantly.]
You have a good voice for that. [First thing that comes to mind for him to say, for some reason. He smiles.] I liked it.
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I take it that means it made more sense to you than reading it for yourself?
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[Nero mildly bristles a little, for a moment, and hurries to clarify.] Not that I can't read, or whatever, but... it's easier for me to listen.
There was a big lawn like that at the orphanage, so... I can picture it really clearly.
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I'm glad to hear it, [he says, closing the book and setting it down on the bed beside him.]
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He watches the book get put away and squirms a little.] Is that all I get? Just the one?
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...Would you like me to keep reading?
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Yeah. You were reading anyway... and maybe it'll help me not have nightmares.
I mean... if you don't mind.
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Alright, [he says, a little quieter than he meant to be. Vergil picks the book back up, but before he opens it, he nods to the glass Nero is still balancing on himself in his hands.] Are you through with that?
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Once the glass is empty he hands it over and fails at not looking terribly pleased with this scenario as he lies back down, settling in and smiling up at Vergil.]
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The water stays down, even if he still feels a little bit queasy and feverish. It's hard not to feel the ickiness lessen though, comfortable and warm, feeling the affection of his father. Here he is, a grown-ass man getting read a bedtime story by his dad. The thought occurs to him that this scenario is a first for both of them... and there's a little pang of regret that he never got the chance for this when he was a kid.
Oh well. Better late than never?
He mumbles some feedback for a few of the poems, nothing terribly profound, but appreciation for some imagery or another, or at least the way Vergil read it. It doesn't last too long though. About ten minutes in, Nero stops responding because he's fallen asleep.]