Just a bit more that I've managed to write on little Ian and his bird, not sure where it's going, but if I find the time and the inspiration, I'll be adding more to it and the other Witchblade stories that I've neglected for years…

At the dinner table, Kenneth Irons sat, letting out a deep sigh as he rested the side of his chin and jaw in the crook of his thumb and index finger. He was still waiting for Ian come to dinner; normally the child was always on time, but he supposed it was the excitement of the baby bird that was keeping him. Irons seriously hoped he hadn't made a mistake in letting the boy keep it.

Just as he was about to start on the platter of his first course meal, manners be damned when no one else could show them, he heard the sound of the massive dinning room doors opening. Quickly he straightened up, his hand moving down to rest on top of the silver platter top he was about to pick up, the other moving down to place a napkin in his lap. Ian was walking through the doors, a small smile on his little face as he was ushered through the doors by Doctor Immo.

"Thank you… Are you sure Leopold will be alright…?" Ian had paused several steps into the room and looked back to the doctor, a worried frown creasing his young brow. He'd watched as Immo had looked the tiny bird over, and then had helped make up a warm nest for him to sleep in. Immo had promised him that he'd get the proper food that baby bird would need and had even set up a little heating lamp to make extra sure that Leopold wouldn't get cold.

"Yes, Ian… I'm going to go feed him right now, while you're having dinner as well. I promise he'll be just fine and waiting for you when you're finished… Now go on, don't keep Mr. Irons waiting any more…" Immo smiled as he looked down to the child and he crouched to be eye level with him, one hand holding the door open to the dinning room, while he gestured towards the table with his other.

"Yes, sir… Thank you…" Ian smiled more as he watched Immo. He liked the doctor, he was always so nice to him and he was the only friend he had outside of Mr. Irons. The rest of the staff was kind to him, but it was Immo and Mrs. Rosenberg, the cook, that were the best (though he considered Immo to be his best friend but he'd never let Mrs. Rosenberg know, he didn't want to hurt her feelings) With one last nod to the doctor, Ian turned back towards Irons and dipped his head down a little, knowing that he was late and that his father was bound to be cross with him.

"Thank you for escorting Master Nottingham to dinner, Immo, you may leave… I take it the… bird is doing fine…" Irons nodded softly at his staff member, knowing that Immo had probably been responsible for getting Ian to the dinner table at all. He always seemed to be looking out for Ian, even more so then the nanny…Perhaps that woman had outgrown her usefulness, Ian did seem to gravitate more towards Immo for some peculiar reason… Where was that damned woman anyway, she was more of a maid then anything.

"Yes, Sir, the little bird should make a full recovery. I think he simply fell from his nest, it's lucky none of the dogs got to him first or some other animal roaming the grounds…" Immo rose as he was addressed by Irons and he dipped his head in a soft nod, the hand he'd been using to gesture towards the table, moving out to gently nudge Ian forward.

"Hmm… well… I'm glad…" Irons nodded softly back to the other man, his gaze moving down to watch as Ian made his way towards the table and took a seat. Nottingham had his head bowed, his hands laced in his lap as he waited for permission to start eating, and Kenneth took a moment to look him over to make sure he had washed up and changed his clothes for dinner before he spoke, "Alright, Ian, you may eat…"

"Thank you, Sir…" Ian smiled and reached out; laying his napkin over his lap, then struggled a bit to lift the lid off his platter. He had started to do this on his own for a while now. Normally Mrs. Rosenberg, or one of the other servants had done it for him, but he wanted to start to do things on his own. Show Mr. Irons that he was growing up and didn't need assistance like a baby anymore.