The little Zaizai was holding the bottle, looking uneasily at the passing scenery outside the window with his big clear and beautiful eyes. His chubby little hands were holding his clothes tightly, like a poor scared kitten.
Grover slightly released some soothing pheromones.
But the little Zaizai didn't seem to be comforted. As if he already had a premonition of separation, he nestled in Grover's arm quietly and quietly, calling him: "PaPa..."
"Yes, I'm here." Grover inexplicably felt a little guilty, and his attitude towards the child softened a lot, "Don't worry, brother will take you to play."
The kid hummed and hawed, and I didn't know if he understood or not, but the expression on his face showed full trust.
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