With Abraham
"Poppy!" Abraham came running, screaming for his father's arms. Lysander reached to pick him up, hauling him into the air and settleing his son on his hips, brushing back his black hair.

"?Que pasa me hijo?" he asks softly to his dear son. Abraham looks up smiling brightly.

"Nadie," he answers laughing.

"O, Nadie esta?" he says in a tone that isn't quite beliveing. Abraham giggles into his father's shoulder when Abuela comes up, her silver hair framing her face. "?Como estas usted?" he says formally, Abuela nods her head.

"Lysander, pareces cansado," Abuela crosses her arms, frowning at the weary man before her. Lysander shrugs, supressing a yawn and isn't ready to say he's tired. Twelve 'o' clock was early for him to come home and all he wanted was a shower and to go to sleep but he loved to see his son.
"Asi como, te durmir," She said taking the now setteled son from his arms. Lysander rolled his.

"Que quiero mi hijo, Abuela," he says stiffly. "Por favor?" he adds cheekily. Abuela just wrinkles her nose at him.

"usted huele como sexo, va toma una ducha primero," Lysander's jaw drops at her frank orders and gives her a disbelieiving look. "usted me oyó, va," With out further question Lysander does as he's told.

When he comes out, drying off his long hair, and pulling it back into a braid. Abraham is already asleep, curled up in the middle of the bed, the blankets wrapped tightly around him in his sleep. Lysander smiles softly, crawling across the matress, extending his hand to touch his son's shoulder.

"Que te amo, mi querido," he whispers softly. "Buenos noche," he kisses Abraham's "Y buenos sueños," he adds. "Mi querido, mi precioso querido," with that he lets Abraham sleep.