In Which Farilon Picks a Name

June 12, 1195

"Thank God for Renata's Aunt Cladelia," CeeCee sighed from just behind Farilon as they made their way up to the sitting room landing. "Renata was so worried about her mother acting up, but Cladelia kept her sufficiently distracted the entire time. Perhaps we ought to order her something from the bakery."

"If you like, though I maintain my stance that even Renata's mother wasn't about to make a scene at her own daughter's wedding."

"And I maintain my stance that it's a lucky thing Cladelia was around to prevent your being proven wrong. But, a happy night merits thoughts of happier things." CeeCee tugged at Farilon's wrist to spin him about. Even with the now-visible added mass of baby, his wife was a small enough person that her strength still surprised him. "So: when do you suppose Falidor and Renata will get to work on a new niece or nephew for me?"

If they truly were as eager as they'd looked tonight, then it wouldn't be long. But, Farilon and CeeCee had better ways of answering each other's questions. "Do you really want another niece or nephew? Or do you just want to share your suffering with your best friend?"

"A little of both." CeeCee blew a loose curl out of her eye, only to have it flop right back where it was. All jokes of suffering aside, she appeared to be in much better health than she'd been in those first few months, for which Farilon was grateful. "But for now, at least I can make you suffer."

"Not that you're doing a good job of it." Farilon tapped her bump twice with the tip of his finger. As always, a tiny foot repeated with perfect rhythm. "Isn't that right, Copycat?"

"I still don't know why this one keeps doing that." CeeCee let go of his arm and drummed her own fingers against her stomach. Her brows arched, as they always did when the kicks mimicked. "I don't know how we two science-and-mathematics types did it, but somehow we seem to have made a little musician."

"A drummer, from the looks of it," Farilon agreed, kneeling down to see what the kid did with a rub. A rub, it seemed, was a rest.

"You might need to ask Raia if her stepson could take Copycat on as an apprentice, if bards even take apprentices."

"No self-respecting bard would trust a Copycat."

"A pity, given that's her name."

CeeCee bit her lip, bump withdrawing somewhat. "Oh, no. That's your serious voice. You can't really be saying that our baby's name is Copycat with your serious voice."

"Hear me out; I've given this some thought." He continued massaging the mound, just in case he needed the baby to back him up later. "We should start with our parents' names, right? But you said it would be strange naming a baby after my mother because you were named after my mother."

She sniffed. "It would."

"But! Everyone calls you CeeCee instead of Celina. And you know what 'C.C.' could stand for?"

CeeCee groaned. "You're kidding."

"I'm not! Her name will be Celina, but we'll call her Copycat, since she copied your name--which you, I may point out, copied from my mother. What better name for a copycat's copycat than Copycat?"

"Farilon, putting aside the fact that that's insane, we don't even know that it's a girl."

"But she has to be, because she's Copycat." Smirking, Farilon leaned in toward her and tried for his best puppy-dog eyes. "Come on, what do you say?"

"I say you had too much to drink tonight." And yet, whenever she tilted her head and rolled her eyes like that, she was never quite so annoyed as she wished she were. "But if you actually want me to consider it, then at least promise that she'll go by Cat. That might at least have some flattering connotations."

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