Alecto brings over a tray of warm tea, sugar, and cream, and sets it on the low table in front of the sofa before settling down on the floor in a flutter of pale taupe and white linen. Even after all these years, his actions are tinged with a supernatural sort of grace and tenderness that evoked a sense of captivating calm and allure. His touch is delicate, his motions fluid. Quietly, contently, he fixes two cups of tea - one for himself and one for his sister-in-law - before taking a sip and turning to his son.

"Well, isn't that something, sweetheart?" he says gently, observing Percy's serious little face as he stacks his blocks. "What are you making?" Alecto's heart warms at the sight, thinking briefly that the way Percy's brow knit together was so reminiscent of the way Joshua's would whenever he was particularly focused on a task at hand. He reaches a pale hand out, smooths back his son's hair to kiss his forehead with utmost care.