It's Definitely Not All Mary Poppins

The Greater the Tension (2)

Matthew placed down the children's and his employer's breakfasts the following morning, avoiding eye contact with all beside Elliot, who pinched his nose.

"Uncle Jun, I don't know what you do, but you smell terrible."

"Watch your tone, Elliot," Mr. Yang snapped, withdrawing a piece of toast from the toast rack.

Lilly, glaring into Matthew's empty spot, asked again, "Why're you guys mad?"

"Why would you ask that, Lilliana?" Mr. Yang asked coolly, reaching for the butter squares. Somehow, the cigar stench was nauseating. "Mr. Robinson's doing fine work." Straightening his suit jacket, he picked up his fork and knife. "I'm not sure why Elliot is in a mood, though."

"You smell awful, for starters," his nephew answered, fingers pinched around his nose.

Lilly switched her gaze to her cousin, Matthew, then her father. She pushed her breakfast plate away.

"Lilliana, you need to eat," her father told her, pushing it back in front of her

"No! What happened? Why're you guys acting weird?"

"Lilliana, eat."

The girl jumped to her feet and clambered over Elliot's shoulders to the end of the built-in booth. "No! Why's everyone mad at each other?" She immediately coughed and turned away. "You smell awful."

Matthew sighed, his hand outstretched to her. "Lilliana, please – "

She swatted his hand. "No! No! Everyone's mad, and no one's saying sorry!"

"Uncle Jun shamed me!" Elliot burst, hand still clasped over his nose.

Everyone stared.

"He wanted me to stop working on that animate potion for your octopus stuffed animal!"

"Daddy!" she stomped, wobbling.

"He threatened to fire Matt, too!"

The girl took in a long, deep, exasperated breath, which relieved Matthew slightly. "You what?"

Mr. Yang shook his head. "I didn't threaten to fire him."

"Keep it up, Mr. Robinson, or I would be more than happy to let you out of your 'commitment' here."

The older man met his nephew's gaze, who stared back at him without hesitation.

"That's what you said to him last night," Elliot spat, "and if that isn't threatening to be fired, tell me what it is."

Lilliana's eyes narrowed, a heartbroken breath leaving her lips. "How could you do that, Daddy?"

"Well, if you must know, I felt the need to remind Mr. Robinson what his job is."

"Lilly, please sit –" Matthew soothed, hands outreached for her.

She swatted him away again. "No! Why would you do that, Daddy? Say, say sorry!"

"Lilliana, sit. Down," Mr. Yang chastised.

"Why did you do that!?" she asked, staring hurt daggers at the side of her father's head. She scrambled back over her cousin's shoulders. "Why did you tell Eli to stop? Why did you say you were going to fire Matt? He didn't do anything!"

"He doesn't like him," Eli snapped.

"Lilliana, sit down," Matthew whispered.

"Listen to him, Lilliana," he told her.

"You big meanie!" she shouted, shoving herself against her father's shoulder.

"Lilliana, that is enough," Mr. Yang insisted, reaching out to grab her hands.

"What did you do!?" she asked again, pounding her fists against his shoulder.

"Lilliana, enough," his voice boomed. "Now sit down and – "

"No! No!" The girl stomped her feet, her fists swinging by her sides. "Nonononononononono – !"

"Lilliana, your father told you to sit down." Matthew's voice echoed across the empty living room.

Elliot's eyes were wide.

Lilly's eyes blurred with tears.

Matthew clenched his jaw and swallowed.

Sliding down the booth and under the table, Lilly wiped her eyes, gasped, and ran through the living room.

"Lilly – " he began, but couldn't finish.

Elliot shuffled out of the booth. Just before following after his cousin, he turned to Mr. Yang. "You're an asshole."

Mr. Yang's eyes widened. His gaze moved to Matthew expectantly.

Matthew held his breath.

A bedroom door slammed shut.

The boy let out a shaking breath and followed after, calling after Lilly before another bedroom door closed hard.

Mr. Yang stayed, seemingly frozen until he heard the bedroom door close. Closing his mouth, he swallowed and cleared his throat. "Did you teach him that word?"

His response was to just stare.

"Hm." He took a bite out of his toast. His fingers trembled. "I must say, Mr. Robinson," he continued, "I almost didn't know you had it in you to raise your voice to the children like that."

Matthew, with a shaking sigh, started gathering up the children's meals.

"I'd refrain from it in the future, though."

"...yes, sir." As he turned towards the kitchen, he paused in the doorway to the playroom.

"Is there something you'd like to say?"

Matthew turned back, so many things on the tip of his tongue. His hands trembled. He wanted to scream, yet all that came out was, "No, sir."

Mr. Yang stared back. His stony expression softened into something Matthew wasn't sure of.

He retreated to the kitchen to wrap their meals in plastic and throw them in the refrigerator. Matthew wiped his eyes and recollected himself. Steeling a couple more calming breaths in the musty pantry, he crossed into the dining room and announced, "I'll speak to them."

"No need," Mr. Yang sighed, appearing just around the corner at the other end of the room. "I'll do it myself."

Matthew clenched his jaw. "...yes, sir." Returning to the breakfast room, he collected the dishes and silverware and returned to the kitchen.