"Why are you still up?" Fred deflected.

"If my son isn’t asleep, how can I rest?" Weston replied. "How are your fingers? Are they sore?"

Fred had completely stopped playing the piano lately, so now that he suddenly played it again for three straight hours, his fingers must be sore.

Fred shrugged. "It’s fine."

His father knew him well; even if his fingers hurt, he wouldn’t admit it.

"Sometimes, being too accommodating can be a bad thing, you know? It’s good to be kind, but if you’re too gene