Chachanji again had to dig deep into his rather shallow well of willpower to avoid poking the weeqo'te lightly on one of his chubby little cheeks. While he had the assurances of his mother that the little kitten would remain asleep, he certainly didn't want to risk causing any problems and get his baby-viewing privileges taken away. Besides, now that he thought on it, poking a stranger's infant was probably frowned upon regardless of whether they were safely tucked into dreamland or not. As such, the little Lalafell contented himself with a simple nod to let Lili know he had heard her words before returning his awed gaze to Mikh'a.
So small, so fragile, so... cute. Chachan almost felt embarrassed about the feelings currently overwhelming his senses. While he may be of the Lalafellan persuasion, a race that was quite the far cry from the masculine paradigm, he was still both a hero-in-training and a rather weathered smith. Was it proper for a blade-wielding forge-master to gawk and coo over an infant like this? Mikh'a response to this odd line of thinking was a slumbering burble, pawing weakly at his shut eyes. Darn it, baby, you make a strong case.
As for Gran, his much lower vantage point meant he had no idea what had his owner all giddy. All he saw was the underside of a basket and the chair it rested on. He'd hop up on the table to get a better look, but he still firmly remembered what happened last time he did that. And the purple piglet much preferred a Momodi that was feeding him to a Momodi that was cross with him. Thus, he was limited to little more than snuffling at the basket from below, and it smelled heavily of biped and baby powder; enough so of the latter to garner a tiny sneeze from the baby behemoth.
As such, he was more than content to turn his attentions towards the infant's mother when she praised him. At least, that's what the tone implied - Gran still wasn't fully cognizant of the Eorzean tongue, after all. All the little porker knew was that she was saying things at him, and in a gentle and friendly manner. He pawed futilely at his still-damp mane in an attempt to pretty up a bit, and then trotted over to Lili. Perhaps she would provide other friendly things, like pets and treats, since his owner was otherwise occupied.
Gran liked pets and treats, you see.
So small, so fragile, so... cute. Chachan almost felt embarrassed about the feelings currently overwhelming his senses. While he may be of the Lalafellan persuasion, a race that was quite the far cry from the masculine paradigm, he was still both a hero-in-training and a rather weathered smith. Was it proper for a blade-wielding forge-master to gawk and coo over an infant like this? Mikh'a response to this odd line of thinking was a slumbering burble, pawing weakly at his shut eyes. Darn it, baby, you make a strong case.
As for Gran, his much lower vantage point meant he had no idea what had his owner all giddy. All he saw was the underside of a basket and the chair it rested on. He'd hop up on the table to get a better look, but he still firmly remembered what happened last time he did that. And the purple piglet much preferred a Momodi that was feeding him to a Momodi that was cross with him. Thus, he was limited to little more than snuffling at the basket from below, and it smelled heavily of biped and baby powder; enough so of the latter to garner a tiny sneeze from the baby behemoth.
As such, he was more than content to turn his attentions towards the infant's mother when she praised him. At least, that's what the tone implied - Gran still wasn't fully cognizant of the Eorzean tongue, after all. All the little porker knew was that she was saying things at him, and in a gentle and friendly manner. He pawed futilely at his still-damp mane in an attempt to pretty up a bit, and then trotted over to Lili. Perhaps she would provide other friendly things, like pets and treats, since his owner was otherwise occupied.
Gran liked pets and treats, you see.
~