It was late. Far later than Logan normally stayed up. He had been working on his usual caligraphy, letting time slip away from him. Even for a child, he was pretty industrious in terms of his hours and hours of practice. If he wanted to use his natural talent and his upbringing to the best of his abilities he needed to work hard, too. In any case, he had been about to go to sleep, having put most of his supplies away already. A light sound, nothing more than a small object falling on the floor in the study, stopped him in his tracks. He frose, his ears going flat against his head, and felt his heart beat furiously in his chest.

Logan was distinctly torn between going to examine the sound and running up to his room, locking the door behind him. If it was Jace, after all, he would surely never have entered by the study... That was where Briar was always working, his father. Logan, with a sigh, let himself into his father's study and prepared for the worst. Only to find that it was merely his father's pen, which had fallen to the floor: his father was asleep on his work, nearly smudging the elaborate illumination of his latest piece. Logan snuck over to him, and tried to extract the art. No such luck. He tapped his father gently, and then tugged on his shirt. "Briar?"

No luck. Briar was out like a light. Logan sighed and flicked his tail impatiently. At least his heart was beginning to slow. It was truly a sign of love that Logan would fight his natural desire to flee and hide in order to check up on his father. Logan wandered into the kitchen, began preparing tea, and sat on the counter while it boiled. His father seldom stayed up late, and never slept in, but lately his projects had been making him an insomniac. Logan couldn't mimic him, or he'd be even more grouchy than normal. No one would be able to tolerate him in the least.

Logan picked the kettle up and poured the boiling water into the teapot, over the contraption that held the leaves. At least Briar used technological advances for this. The device would distribute exactly the right amount of tea into the water. It always tasted delicious, even when Logan made it (his cooking and such could be described as functional at best). Logan carried the teapot back into the study and set it on the side table, away from his father's work. "Briar-- Father, wake up, I've made you tea."

Still no luck. Logan sighed and used this opportunity to wrap his arms around his father's waist as far as he could reach, lean his head against him. He hugged tight, and then crept into Briar's lap. "Dad?" Logan tried one last time. He fell asleep curled up on Briar's lap, his head against Briar's stomach, fists gripping the shirt fabric intently. He had an expression of concentration on his face when Briar woke to see him there. Briar brushed some of the hair away from Logan's face and sighed, smiling faintly.

"I didn't raise you with very much room to be a child, did I? I hope you turn out alright," Briar apologized, quietly, to Logan. Who continues to slumber.