Mahtin
It was never a good idea for Martin to visit Terry for only a short time. For reasons Noah could not understand, his son was absolutely enthralled with his idiot of an uncle, and shrieked and kicked and cried whenever Martin tried to make a quick exit. This afternoon had been no different, and instead of having Terry cry for an hour, Noah packed up his bag and agreed to tag along to Puddlemere Stadium where Martin had some quidditch shit to do.

"You haven't even seen your uncle for half an hour, and you're as calm as can be," Noah said to Terry, who was wobbling between his legs on the floor. Noah was holding the boy's wrist to help him stand, moving him slowly forward and back as if he were a puppeteer trying to get his marionette to walk down the stage. A very gurgly, chubby marionette, but Terry didn't seem to mind it. It was almost as if he knew that he was waiting for Martin to return and was willing to be tugged and pulled around just to get some more time with his uncle.

Ugh, he was going to have to deal with this for the rest of his life, wasn't he? Terry being stupidly attached to Martin and Martin rubbing it in his face?

"Just don't start thinking like him," Noah said as the door to the guest waiting room opened and Martin appeared. Terry let out a happy squeal of a sound and dropped down to his hands and knees to crawl over to Martin. Noah rolled his eyes and stood, stuffing his hands in his pockets.