"Joe makes everyone beautiful," Andy agreed softly, only turning enough to be able to see Nicky and smile.

"It's his talent." The sword, the skill with weapons, that was only a byproduct of their life. Joe had always had a way with art, written or drawn or whatever other kind. She chuckled at the comment about being full of pizza: he'd eaten all of his despite them trying to help, and had poked his fork into the back of he hand to make sure she didn't take any slices. It did make her slowly, carefully lever herself up, careful not to jar or crease the artwork as she settled on her knees between Nicky's shins, head tilted up. Expectant.