IN THE HOURS BETWEEN • TC

3. A Home in the Hive

you get this a day early because I have something else planned for tomorrow :)

Their first meal as a family (a family plus Timothée) is awful. Conversation is horribly fluid. Una wants to see him suffer, wants to see him squirm hotly under uncomfortable questions, wants to ask him something to which there can only be an embarrassing answer, watch as he struggles to answer it.

Yet despite the language barrier, Timothée seems delighted to talk. He positively beams when anyone asks him a question, and Una can tell that this whole smiling thing is going to get very tiring, very quickly.

At times, Timothée and Frank will speak in French for a few blissful minutes, and it's the only relief Una receives. The only respite, because physically she can't contribute to the conversation. Timothée seems to be mindful of the fact, though, and he never lets them speak in French for very long. Everyone is included in the conversation whether they like it or not.

He's polite. Speaks when spoken to, sometimes bringing up a topic of his own if he feels it's necessary. He uses his knife and fork properly, even though they're eating peas. He doesn't scoop them up like Una does, but balances them on the back of his fork and chews quietly, delicately. His movements are calculated. He waits to finish his mouthful before speaking.

Timothée tucks his napkin into the soft V-neck of his shirt instead of placing it on his lap like everyone else. He doesn't drink, but sips. Asks for water when offered a second glass of wine and chews incredibly slowly, yet manages to finish his meal just after Frank, who's known in the Murphy household for eating the quickest.

"How was the journey here, Timothy?" Fen asks, because none of them can seem to mirror Timothées pronunciation of his own name except Frank.

Timothée swallows. Smiles again. "It was not bad," he says. Takes a sip of water, and Una can see the struggle for words pass over his face. "I was sitting next to a man who was very nice. But...sweet?"

They look at him blankly, and Timothée's mouth screws up as he thinks.

"Well, that's nice," Sean fills in, but Timothée still looks conflicted.

"What I would like to say is...sweet. Comme, uh..." he trails off. Waves a hand briefly in front of his nose.

"Swee- sweat? Sweaty?" Frank prompts, and Timothée's head turns towards him, a smile on his face.

"Yes, I think it's like that," he nods. "I'm sorry if I was being...how did you- sweaty?" he looks at Frank for confirmation, "earlier. He was falling asleep on my- on me," Timothée grins, tilting his head to one side.

"On your shoulder?" Frank asks. Timmy nods, repeating after Frank, but he pronounces shoul as shuel. It makes Una smile. Duck her head downwards to capture the peas on her fork before they fall off.

"That happened to you once, didn't it Sean?" Fen asks, and Sean smiles at Timmy.

"Yes, only I was the one falling asleep on someone. I think I traumatised them," he chuckles, and Una wonders when this is going to stop feeling like a dinner party where everyone exchanges polite anecdotes. Wonders when it's going to get back to Frank adding too much salt to everything and Fen getting annoyed with him for it. Wonders when she and her dad are going to smile at each other from across the table and take the piss out of everyone liberally.

"Oh dear," Timothée snickers, having taken a second or two to understand. "I am sure it wasn't your fault," he says, completely disregarding the l in fault.

Sean smiles again, and there's silence as everyone finishes eating. Una wishes it was a terse silence, wishes everything was awkward, but Timothée seems to have put everyone in a good mood. She tilts her bowl; scrapes the last peas onto her fork and barely manages to conceal her scowl when Frank is the first one to collect everyone's plates and Timothée stands up immediately with him, seemingly thinking it's his duty. He leans forwards to stack her plate on top of his own, and Una wants to push the crockery out of his spindly hands.