Disclaimer: My mommy always told me to ask if I wanted to borrow something that isn't mine…please can I have Tin Man?
Author's Note: Just an idle thought that's been kicking around in my brain and took advantage of current narrator difficulties to get written. I swear, when I finish Azkadellian Bodyguards I am going to throw myself a party to celebrate. And then I'll kill off all the guards, it'll be fun. I can already hear the screams of protest, am just kidding. Maybe.
There comes a time in everyone's life when they find themselves opening their mouth and having their parent come out. It is a bi-universal phenomenon every bit as true in the O.Z. as it was on the Otherside. Wyatt Cain had first experienced such an event when Jeb was a young lad, finding himself bellowing words after the boy he distinctly remembered having heard decades before. The Tin Man had afterwards comforted himself with the notion that his father generally seemed to know what he was doing, his example not being the worst to follow.
His father never had to deal with a princess, though.
He hadn't meant to do it, it had just slipped out. Cain knew full well he wasn't her guardian, her keeper, or – perish the thought – her father. Damn well wasn't her father, but that didn't mean he didn't care deeply for her safety and wellbeing. Even if she was stubborn, argumentative, reckless, and prone to the kind of trouble that was bound to leave him greyer than a tin suit's lining in short order. Someone had to say something about her latest exploit.
Unfortunately, he was quite certain that something shouldn't have been: and if someone told you to jump off a cliff, would you?
DG's expression had gone from startled to smugly wry in the snap of a Papay's jaw, highlighting in a shiny glow just how stupid that question had been. The Tin Man cursed his father quietly and at length. He was never going to be able to talk DG out anything she wanted to do ever again.
Because they both knew the answer was yes.