You had never imagined your husband to act as some grumpy old man, but after seeing him with your six year old son Nevio, you were convinced he was a elderly man in disguise.

No one got more impatient with Nevio than Remo did. He was never one to shout at his own kids of course, but you knew him well enough to tell his mood even just by a jaw tick. The two of you had twins, and it was mainly fine. Greta was an absolute little angel, who was either hand picking you flowers from the back garden or spending cuddle bonding time with her favourite uncle Savio. But Nevio? Oh, he was Remo's child, that was for sure.

Even at such a young age, Nevio had a fascination with his father's profession. He locked up everything dangerous so the kids couldn't play with anything that hurt them of course, yet Nevio always seemed to find a way to end up with a pistol in his two tiny hands, examining it. He had Remo's temper in the form of temper tantrums, and you're pretty sure that's the reason that Remo got so aggravated by him. He could see himself in his son's eyes, and in some way that seemed to annoy him like nothing else.

"No. Nevio. Your sister is sleeping, bud. You can't go disturb her, okay?" You found Remo kneeling on the floor in the living room, holding a very angry-looking Nevio in his grip. "Look- Look- no. I know. I miss Greta too, but she's poorly, remember? We need to let her rest." He sighed outwardly, lifting Nevio up when he stopped writhing in his hold.

"I don't think she wants to see your new pet stick anyway, buddy. Mr sticky isn't very fluffy like Greta's stuffed animals, unfortunately."