action;

[Keith... doesn't really have those sort of memories. There are some pictures, of him and his dad, but that's about it. They never traveled much, either. His dad was often needed at the fire department. And the time he had off, he'd try to spend with Keith, to the best of his ability, but never really leaving their place. Nights spent with him outside, looking up at the night sky and telling stories.

... He understands it better, now. Why his dad sometimes got lost in thought, while looking up.]

Honestly?... [He starts, looking at Lance over his shoulder, before heading towards the stairs again.] ... You are probably not wrong. [What else could it be? Nothing of this makes sense.

You know.

Like magic.]