Marlon adored his sister, of course, and knew to enjoy her beyond the offending belly. Her hugs were always honest, and the heat of her body was a blaring contrast to Neda's, especially since he'd been washing her in the now icy tub water. He didn't answer at first, when she asked who might be calling. It wasn't so unusual. The room was made and reinforced for just that purpose. While Neda had been a good kid, he and Ariela had found themselves behind locked doors on occasion. She forgot about her question by the time he sat her down.<br/><br/>He smiled in defeat and shrugged whens she insisted on her self-invitation to his home. Admittedly, it was odd not to welcome her here. He picked her foot up into his lap, so he could start massaging it. It was only then that he noticed the cut Teija had left on him. The memory of their game was fresh, and it made him smile. The curls of his lips strained to deepen when she talked about the baby. He wanted to love anything that came from her, but this child was a mistake upon conception. Still, he needed to pretend for her sake. The hand not tending to the sole of her swollen foot reached to brush the infernal round of her stomach. He was also trying to hike her dress up. "A niece, huh?" he mused, playing the part of an excited uncle.<br/><br/>He laughed smartly at where her eyes went next. The hill hadn't flattened completely. Marlon wasn't embarrassed by this kind of thing, and only ever hid for the sake of propriety. He wouldn't mind if Neda saw him now - his proportions had thrived during the years when it was improper for brother and sister to jump naked into the lake together, anymore. Not that Neda was prone to bathing since the mishap. "I just came home and Teija was happy to see me." It wasn't a lie, not entirely. He always saw his wife's disobedience as a call for his attention, even though he didn't always appreciated it. The boys of the commune were raised to have tremendous egos.<br/><br/>"Just a new girl." about the ruckus in the basement. He supposed he was grateful for the change in topic. "How's your husband?" he tried, also, squeezing her foot harder, suddenly. Jordan was a sweet man. Marlon had practically raised him. Blond lad with a closed-lipped smile. Not a threat. At least not until he'd asked Father to marry Neda. Marlon was torn on that, since he'd always seen it as a betrayal, but also considered Jordan a better fit for her than anyone else in the commune. He'd liked to think he didn't touch Neda in private, but she'd carried proof of the opposite for seven months now, which had somewhat soured his relationship with the man. Jordan was none the wiser.<br/><br/>His head turned when Neda announced Teija's return. She had put some effort in, he could tell. He had come to like the way she dressed - it was reminicent of the city she wasn't ever allowed to see - even if he'd rather have her in more traditional clothing. Still, she'd made an effort and he wanted to encourage that. She earned a crooked smile for it. They shared what they'd done in the bathroom between their eyes. She knew to be quiet about it. Her lie made him warm with sentiment. It pleased him when she helped with their facade. He liked it even more when his wife held out his hand for him, it of course gave him more power over her.<br/><br/>Instead of leaving money in it, he pulled her down to sit by him. His favorite was mother's pot roast, but there was no possible way his wife would know that. He closed his eyes for the kiss, and the hand not tending to Neda's toes stroked the back of Teija's neck, where it had squeezed her and kept her below water, not long ago. "You spoil me." he said. There was a hardness to his tone. She had been so beautiful in her icy bed, enveloped by chills and the enamel she never polished. She hadn't even made a ruckus because he'd told her to. And here she was, prettied up for the day. It had all made him feel almost proud of her, and loving, certainly, but after Neda's look around the house and her rotund reminder of Teija's inability to give him children - perhaps because of his own abuse of her - she was again a failure in his eyes.<br/><br/>His hand trailed down her back to find the mark of his teeth when she kissed his cheek. He put the pressure of two fingers against the shirt, to awaken the nerves in the broken skin there. "Teija here likes cooking." In the sun, meth, my mood. But never food. Neda didn't need to know. He was sure she didn't need to be told. His home didn't exactly project the image of a homemaker woman. "Does Jordan cook for you?" Preposterous, a man cooking for a woman, even when she was heavy with child. It was a joke and he expected laughter, dug his fingers deeper into Teija so she'd laugh. He didn't excuse her. She usually knew to stay put if he didn't let her go. The times she'd failed to at least uphold that much of their front, his punishments had been unholy. She liked what he supplied more than to be actually spiteful, in that regard. Of course, there'd be a first for anything.