"Anuk, Halak, do you want help with the Guardians up there?" "NO DAD. WE'VE GOT IT. IT'S FINE! THEY DON'T KNOW WHAT COUNTERCLOCKWISE MEANS. JUST BUTT OUT FOR ONCE." "You don't need to take a disrespectful tone with your father, young ladies. I'm the Taken King of this dreadnau-" *Oryx is drowned out by the deathsinger's dirge, accompanied by raucous guitar-riffs and drumming, as well as a great deal of gunfire. He sighs, shakes out his newspaper, and returns to reading, a small crease of irritation between his brows, mouth turned down in a barely apparent frown of hurt.* "It seems like just yesterday, they were my little larvae. My little grubs. Now they're always inviting strangers over and listening to that godawful metal crap." *Oryx cocks his head and raises his brow, as if to say "what are you gonna do?", as above, six very frustrated squeakers wipe for the third time that day.*