"Since Ilia was a baby," Varyyn replied without looking up from his papers. "Maybe a year old?"
His daughter nodded, getting to her feet and scooping Twyla up before the kitten could start begging for scraps. "You've already had dinner," she scolded fondly, ruffling her ears. Looking back to Theodore, she added, "I suppose we could return the question to you: you're Serenian, right? What brings you so far north, other than visiting?"