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"MAMA. CAN YOU say mama?"
Glenn and Primrose sit against the bottom bunk of their cell, Rosemary sitting in front of them. The entire morning, they've just been playing with the small baby. Hide-and-seek and peek-a-boo has taken up most of the time, and while the two adults have grown rather tired, Rosemary has not. It took almost thirty minutes for them to steer away from playing the games and into what they're doing now.
Luv told her when Rosemary reached six months, to start associating words with objects. Primrose has done so. She points at herself and says mama. She points at the cars and tells her what they were. Against her better judgment, she's shown her Glenn's gun and told her what it is.
(She hasn't done that last one since Carol tore her a new one. Lesson fucking learned.)
"Glenn." Glenn — with his dopey smile — points at himself and repeats his name again.
Rosemary just stares at them with a smile before crawling towards the other corner of the cell.
Primrose rests her head on Glenn's shoulder and sighs. "If she says car before mama, I'm going to kill myself."
"Better hope she doesn't say gun," Glenn jokes.
She covers her face with her left hand. "I said I was sorry."
Glenn rests his head against hers. "I don't think it's something you'll be able to live down, Prim."
They sit in silence for a while, just watching Rosemary before Glenn nudges Primrose's head with his shoulder. She looks at him and gives him a questioning look.
A little nervous, Glenn stammers, "Wh- What would you say about spending the night up in the guard tower?"
Primrose bites her lip, pensively. "I'd say it's probably colder there than here for Rosie."
