Nolan Home for Wayward Refugees, 33 Apocalypse, Saturday Morning

[not_in_the_book]

Ronan knew full well what day it was. In fact, he'd made sure to get up early and start cooking, just in case. Hey, if he didn't have any kids show up, he could always share the food with kids of people who had.

Anyone walking by 33 Apocalypse on Saturday morning, though, would see a new sign affixed near the front door:

Nolan Home for Wayward Refugees

Scrawled underneath was:

and Temporally Displaced Children
All Welcome

Anyone hungry? There's bacon, eggs, sausage, toast, fried potatoes, fried tomatoes, and waffles. Lots and lots of waffles. And, with the open door, the scent was probably drifting out into the street.

[Open for Ronan's kids, visitors, other people's kids, and anyone else who wants some breakfast.]

Comments

[tri-psi-lupi.livejournal.com]

"He wants us to behave," one of them informed the other two. "That's almost sweet."

"Right, because you're capable of telepathic ethics."

"You aren't either!"

"Details."

"Do you two mind?" the third huffed, kicking off her heels. "For the record, we had a portal scheduled for Aruba, not Fandom in the Dark Ages. Blame Portalocity."

[not_in_the_book]

"Actually, the 'shenanigans' in question are Fandom's," Ronan pointed out. "My point being that usually the kids who show up are, well, kids." He gestured at the table, where the others were still eating breakfast. "They're at the upper range, normally, unless there's been a change no one thought to mention to me."

Really, he was taking this remarkably well, finding out that he had triplet telepaths with Emma.

Hah. He'll find out eventually who their father really is. Probably.

[tri-psi-lupi.livejournal.com]

If he found out, it wasn't because the girls actually told him. They were having fun with this.

"We aren't the only ones over the age of eight," Christiana supplied helpfully. "There's a bunch of utterly delicious flailing going on on the psychic plane today."

[not_in_the_book]

Ronan took a moment to consider that.

... And grinned. What? There are any number of ways in which the girls could reasonably have gotten their attitude from him as much as their mother. And he was probably around enough to spoil them rotten, anyway. Witness their key-having, and such.

He dropped his shields just enough to let out a tendril of thought at... one of them. Which realistically was all of them. Got any good flailing to share? he asked.

[tri-psi-lupi.livejournal.com]

**Only everyone and anyone,** Annika provided. "Oooo.. bacon!"

"I want-"

"-yes."

"-how much is-?"

"Ew? Fried tomatoes? I don't see HOW you like those, Christiana."

Food, Ronan. Food. Growing psis.

"Aunt Karla, for one. The girl with the dragons. Mr. Wayne, although his head is annoyingly disciplined. Aunt Quinn."

[not_in_the_book]

Ronan eyed the three girls for a moment as they dug in... and pulled more bacon out of the fridge.

"Huh. Fandom," he said, shrugging, as he started laying more rashers in the pan. "Every time you think you've got it figured out..."

As the bacon started frying, he opened the fridge again and considered the contents. "Anything else you'd like, ladies?" he asked. "Looks like I'm cooking more anyway."

[tri-psi-lupi.livejournal.com]

"Everything!" they chorused in unison, beaming at him angelically. "We're growing girls!"

[not_in_the_book]

"Well, yes," Ronan agreed, laughing, "but I meant anything specific. Any particular favorites I could do up?"