A teenager with a skin color that very slightly lightened as one looked from the lower to upper part of their body upwards and became a palish peach tapped their fot softly at the ground.

The person occasionally turned their head to look at an adult female carrying a baby in her hands. "Mom, do I really hafta wait for ya?"

Mom softly curled her fingers into Narcisse's hair; her mouth and face softly twisting from a look of unconfidence to the


and a soft nod of the head.