"Not in so many words," Micah admitted. "He tried to hold on, to talk the rest of my kids into putting me in folk's home, all that sort of thing. When that didn't work he got violent. My eldest had to throw him out, in the end--but it only ended the way it did because of the choice he made."

His voice was soft, not exactly resigned but accepting. Sad and understanding at once, and without any censure at any apparent disrespect. Just like Micah would have answered such a question before Erskine had suspected anything off about him. Then he grinned, glancing toward Erskine and, apparently, choosing to ignore the fact that the man had mentioned a specific name at all.

"He's always liked cuddling things," He said. "There was a time when he thought his brother might cheer up if he got hugged more often. Anytime they ran across each other, he'd latch onto him." He laughed. "Best way to get his wayward brother to avoid him I've ever seen. I actually saw him turn around and flee when he saw his little brother coming."

He never used names. He never used names and yet, somehow, the various 'hes' were easy to divine.