Marcus stands up slowly from where he’s folded himself into a squashed armchair, trying not to visibly wince as he brings the clipboard back to Verity. “I struggled through valiantly. Every time I had a question, I thought to myself, ‘what would Verity do?’ and kept my trap shut.”
She blinks at him in growing suspicion. “Oh my God. Are you a dad? Is that why you’re like this?”
It’s true that each day is full of blessings, if you know where to find them. “No,” Marcus says, grinning in a way that Bennett would call obnoxious and Mouse would call shit-eating, tapping at the collar semi-obscured by his jacket, “but I am a Father.”