"Star," a little voice said, followed by a gentle tug at my hand. "Emmy help?"

Burning with hope, his eyes peered up at me, his head tilted cutely. Tigger was pressed to his chest, and his breakfast— or dinner, depending on how one wanted to perceive it, as none of us had woken up until late afternoon— lingered around his mouth, the chocolate syrup he had on his pancakes creating a crusty ring.

"Help?" I asked slowly. "By help, do you actually plan on helping, or are you just going to lick the spoon like him?" I jerked a finger to where Lumen sat on the counter, cross-legged and encased...