Lucien pointed at the birds. "What are their names?"
"The male is Sugar, and his mate is Syrup," Mikhail replied as he tossed them another pistachio.
"Don't give them too much. They will get fat," he added with a sigh before taking the treats and putting them away.
As if they understood exactly what he had done, the birds immediately started yelling again.
"Fuck you Reznik! Fuck you Reznik!"
They flew off and perched on a nearby tree branch, still grumbling loudly.
"That is rude," Lucien said innocently as he leaned back against the swing bench. "I wonder where they picked up that habit."
Mikhail joined him without replying.
Sunlight filtered through the glass panels above them, warming the space as Mikhail began to swing the bench slowly.
The steady motion made Lucien drowsy. His body was exhausted, and the quiet atmosphere of the glasshouse felt dangerously comfortable.
