In one of the many rooms of the Clarke Estate, Peter came upon Hana, alone, resting on her tummy and coloring the picture of a fairy in a coloring book.

She was humming.

You have to woo her, Peter remembered.

Right.

Forming a wide grin, Peter danced and twirled his way dramatically into the room. When he stumbled to a stop in front of Hana, she looked up in expectation.

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Peter tipped the brim of an invisible hat to her and drawled, “M’lady,” in a sultry accent he’d heard in an old soap opera he’d watched with his mother once.

Hana giggled.

She stood up and dropped into a deep curtsy, holding the ends of an invisible poofy skirt.

Peter pretended to put a rose in his mouth and bowed deeply.

Hana giggled again.

They continued their theater, laughter echoing down the halls.