As he rides his bicycle up the drive way, he spots Emily bouncing up and down in the bay window, her black curls like a cloud buzzing around her as she looks at him in excitement. Her dark little hands wave as her mouth seamlessly forms around one word and then another and then another and then another in rapid succession. He wonders if she's picked that up from Nico, or if it's somewhere in the underworld side of her DNA, tucked away like unintelligible French or the famous 'death glare' that used to guarantee that their day late coupons still worked at all the super markets. He smiles back at her, and waves one of his hands, before he disappears into the garage.

Frank doesn't rush when he clambers off his old beat up bicycle, with its little basket in front, and the little rack on the back where he could attach a seat small enough for an excitable little girl. He should probably get a new one, this one has taken a few too many hits from the riff raff monsters he sometimes runs into, from a few cars, some taking more than others. Frank takes off the bright pink foam helmet, with sparkles and pony stickers, and puts it in its proper place; a labeled peg on the wall, next to a purple helmet that doesn't fit anyone. He then tenderly lifts up his old battered bicycle, and places it on the wall wrack. He then reaches over and retrieves the purple backpack in the basket, and slings it over one shoulder. It's too small to fit over both of his shoulders, but that's alright.

Before he can turn to close the large garage door, the door from the kitchen is tossed open, and a giggling little girl is flinging herself at him. Well accustomed to this, Frank catches her seamlessly, and in one swift motion, she's up on his shoulders, cooing and laughing. "Welcome home Daddy!" She chirps, fisting her little hands in his hair. He's grown it out a bit, so that its easier for her to hold onto. Not long enough for her to braid, but long enough for very fashionable pig tails. She seems to like his hair for some reason, but not as much as Nico's, which is quite a bit longer.

"Thank you Em." He replies to her welcome, as the two of them stroll over to the pull down door of the garage. "How was your day?"

Emily doesn't skip a beat. "Uncle Nico took me to the pool, but only after I promised to eat broccoli. We watched cartoons, and colored and played hide and seek, and I beat Uncle Nico at Mario Kart!"

Frank reaches up with one hand to pull down the garage door, the old thing protests a bit before he coaxes it down. He then turns back around, and heads for the door to the kitchen. "That sounds like a good day. Uncle Nico is good at Mario Kart, did you really beat him?"

"Yes!" She insists. "We were playing and someone called, so we paused it. I waited, like I'm supposed to, till he was done. He got mad at who was on the phone." She leans down to his ear, and whispers softly to him. "I think it was Leo." Emily then swings back up, and looks around, to see if anyone saw her whisper into his ear, before she keeps going. "When he got back, he fell off the track 6 times! I told him we could start over, but he said we should keep going. I won! We didn't play again after that."

"It probably was Leo then." Frank states softly.

Frank can smell whatever Nico is making as he crosses over into the kitchen. The scent lingers in his mind for a few moments, as he tries to place where he remembers it. Nothing comes to him, and he wanders over to see. "What's for dinner?"

Though Nico can obviously hear the question, he doesn't turn around to look at him. Nico's back is a little rigid, and he is shifting from side to side, uncomfortable relying on his own feet. The silence between them seems to stretch for a long time before Nico finally says anything. "Can't you tell?"

Frank sniffs again, but before he can venture a guess, Emily lays her head on his, and coos "It's gumbo daddy! I asked Uncle Nico to make it."

"Oh," is the most elegant thing that comes out of his mouth all day. If it is gumbo, it doesn't smell right. That's probably for the best. "That sounds good." Emily hums to herself, as she runs her fingers across his scalp, as if she is playing in sand, drawing little loopies and squigglies, and the occasional heart. "Do you need help?"

Nico probably does need help. Probably not with dinner. "No," is the answer Frank gets.

Frank would have nodded, but Nico isn't looking, and it would have ruined the imaginary snowman Emily is tracing on his head, so he doesn't. Or, at least he thinks it's a snowman. "Let's set the table, Em."

She places two little dots, where he assumes the snowman's head is suppose to be, before she gives an excited "Mmhm!" He then gently lifts her off his shoulders, and places her back onto the ground. She scurries off to the counter, where she pulls out the silverware drawer and retrieves three spoons.

Frank places his backpack by the couch, and then makes his way to the top cabinets, and reaches for the bowls. He pauses. "Three or four?" Frank already knows the answer, but he actually needs Nico to say it.

"Three," and it is the gloomiest, angriest three Frank might ever hear. Em giggles a few seconds later though, and whatever chill is leaking out of Nico's skin, seems to dissipate. Frank grabs three bowls and goes to set up the table.

As he sets them down, Em scurries over to him, and cups her hands over her mouth. This is code for a secret whisper, and he is required to lean down to receive her most important messages. He does just that. "When is Leo coming back?" The whisper is a little too loud, because something in the kitchen clangs, but Frank smiles at her anyway.

"I don't know Em. Sometimes, Leo is very busy."

Emily frowns, and it is suddenly all underworld spite. "Doing what?" she demands. For Leo's sake, Frank hopes he shows up sooner rather than later.

Frank leans down, and wraps her up in a hug, swirling her around until she is securely in his arms. She feels so small there, beside his big lumbering arms, the warmth of her skin against his own. He knows it's rationally impossible to keep her in his arms forever, but it's hard to ignore the urge. "Being Master of the Stick, love. It's an important job you know." He places a kiss on her cheek, and then on the other cheek. "Mommy was the Master of the Stick, then I was, and now Leo is. And maybe," he leans in and nuzzles their noses together. "Leo is having a hard time with that."

Emily's frown goes away when their noses touch, and she reaches over to poke at his cheeks. "Then why aren't you still the Master of the Stick?" She is drawing hearts again. He needs to get her some finger paint. Nico might have a heart attack, but she'll love it.

"Because Leo wants to be the Master of the Stick, and he will be a very good one someday. He's just practicing now." He reaches up, and traces a heart on her cheek. Emily giggles at the contact. "Just like you have to practice drawing to get better, right?"

Something from the kitchen crashes again, and they both look over at Nico, who is emerging from the kitchen, with a steaming pot in his hands. He shuffles to the table, and sets the pot down, making an obvious effort to place it gently. The dark angry rings under his eyes have not gone away. Frank didn't think they would, not yet, it's too soon. They look worse.

With the food on the table, Emily wiggles in his arms, which is code that she wants down. For a split second, he contemplates keeping her in the crook of his elbow anyway, but he relents. He gently places her down, and she dashes to the table, sitting down, and eyeing the gumbo happily. She beams over at Nico "Thank you Uncle Nico!"

Nico looks over at Emily, and there is a genuine smile on his face when he utters a soft "Your welcome." Frank does the proper thing, and pretends not to notice. He takes his own seat.

"Thank you for the meal, Nico." Frank states, spooking out a portion for Emily, and placing it down in front of her. Nico nods absentmindedly, but both of them only had eyes for Emily. She savors the smell for a few moments, her eyes narrowing in pleasure, and her chin lifting, as if her nose is chasing the smell as it drifts up, then the moment is gone and she is digging in.

"Careful!" Nico calls, and Emily stops, the spoon almost to her lips. "It's hot."

Emily blinks down at the spoon full of gumbo, as if it has offended her, then gently blows on it, before sticking it in her mouth. Frank notices that Nico is gripping his knees under the table, his dark eyes intent on the little girl. When Emily's smile widens, Nico's hands relax.

"I've never made it before." Nico mumbles, more to himself than anyone else. Frank knows that. Not in the rational sense that it is something he actually does know for a fact, but he still knows. Just like Frank knows it isn't going to taste right. That isn't Nico's fault though, gumbo will probably never taste right again.

After they'd finished, while Frank does the dishes, and Nico collapses in his own room and locks the door, Emily comes over to Frank and tugs on his pant leg. He smiles down at her. "Daddy, did you beat any monsters at work today?"

"Yeah, I did." Frank answers. He motions to the living room, where a princess movie is on the TV. Probably Brave. Emily likes that her hair is like Merida's, even if it isn't the same color. "When I finish the dishes, I'll tell you all about it."

"Okay!" Emily squeals, as she bounces back over to the living room. Frank returns to the dishes, only to find that a few moments later, his pant leg is being tugged on again. He looks down at Emily, but this time, she has a different sort of look in her eyes.

"Daddy," she says, with a great deal of importance in her voice. "I wanna call Leo."

Frank puts the dish he'd been washing down into the soapy water. He reaches for the dish towel and dries off his hands, before he reaches down, and sweeps Emily up into his arms. He kisses her forehead. "Okay Em. Let's call Leo."