It's Definitely Not All Mary Poppins

The Benefits Dinner (2)

"Should I even ask?" he wondered openly, straightening his sleeves and throwing on his blazer, fixing the top button and smoothing out the front. "Oh, it's a...wait..." His brown eyes darted to the posed nanny, asking for any assistance in his daughter's art.

"Mm," she hummed, finishing off her progress with a couple more paint strokes. "It's a water serpent." Lilly swished the paintbrush, catching the pages underneath. She proceeded to stab the page.

Mr. Yang met Matthew's eyes. They seemed to share the same thought.

Matthew turned his gaze away. Something in his stomach egged him to apologize again to them.

"Do you like it, Daddy?" she asked, twirling away from her easel. "The floor isn't super sticky anymore, and it doesn't smell like farts!"

"Lilliana," her father warned, stepping down towards her.

"It doesn't!"

Indeed, the exterminators had left the entire house smelling of noxious fumes, even the walls stained with the stuff, yet this did little to diminish their enthusiasm for finally finishing cleaning the playroom. Now the arduous process began of restoring it.

"Just ignore all the stuff we're going to donate, sir," Matthew added, gesturing to the piles of clothes and toys just passed the pavilion doors; he wobbled as he did so. "On a school day, I'll run them to a nonprofit."

"Use yellow there," Eli told her.

She swatted him with her paintbrush, leaving a lovely mark of cyan across his cheek. "Don't tell me how to paint, Eli."

Just before he could swat her back, before Mr. Yang could interject, Matthew interrupted it all – "Guys, if you're unable to be civil to each other, I expect one of you to leave."

"Make her!" Elliot shouted. "You said you'd help me!"

"Make him! You said you'd let me paint you!"

"Elliot." Matthew turned his eyes to the boy. "Am I being painted right now?"

"Wh – yeah, but – "

"Lilliana, was it nice to hit your cousin with your paintbrush?"

"No, but – "

"Tell him, then. Not me."

She huffed and turned to him. "I'm sorry I hit you."

"Why?" asked Matthew.

Lilly wobbled. "It just happened." She paused before adding, "I don't like being told what to paint. And I don't have yellow paint."

"Oh." Elliot turned towards the open doors of the pavilion before asking, "I can make some for you tomorrow if you want."

"The onion one?"

He nodded.

"We don't have onions," Matthew noted. "Or sunflowers, tumeric, marigolds."

The boy groaned. "Can we get paints tomorrow?"

Matthew turned his head. "We can go after school tomorrow if you guys want."

"You have tutoring tomorrow, children," Mr. Yang reminded.

At the same time, the children's gaze darkened. Elliot swung his things out to the pavilion, while Lilly stepped away, continuing to paint.

Mr. Yang sighed, frowning. "Well...as, entertaining as this all is, I have a benefit to attend."

"Should I save dinner?"

"No, Mr. Robinson, it's a benefit dinner." He sighed and wiped his brow. "A political one, at that." Clapping his hands, he knelt, arms open. "Lilliana. Smock off."

The girl slugged out of it before wrapping one arm over her father's shoulder, her eyes turned away in frustrated indifference. "Bye, Dad." She immediately returned to painting.

As soon as she let go, Mr. Yang stayed down. "Elliot?" he asked, the word, for the first time since Matthew arrived, uncertain-sounding. Concerned.

"No." Eli turned his back to him, into his box for something. He flipped his uncle the middle finger.

Mr. Yang straightened up. He straightened the collar of his blazer.

There was no doubt, to Matthew, at least, that the man's evening had unintentionally been ruined.

"A – a political benefit dinner?" Matthew asked, after several moments of silence between the four. "Those – " He wobbled. " – don't usually work well together, do they?"

Staring, the corners of the older man's mouth twitched into a bemused smirk despite his obvious resistance. "Why didn't I expect that from you, of all people?"

Matthew stumbled, striking the dramatic pose again a moment later.

"It's part of my job, to scope out what politician my firm should support."

"What is your job?" Matt asked.

Elliot turned. "Yeah. Uncle Jun, what do you do?"

The older man, clearly, ignored him. "It's an interesting background. Already working in the Department of Education, and a pretty clean career, too, though I don't really know about his getting enough support for governor."

Matthew wobbled again. "W-who is it?"

"A Mr. Herbert Culpepper."