Patrick Vance would like to make sure that everyone knows he has been the absolute perfect husband and father to Lyssandra and Emily (respectively, of course). He was doing a far better job than any of his friends or family had ever imagined he would as a married man, hell, most people were still shocked that he'd decided to take the plunge! So he loved to acknowledge how good of a job he was doing, when he could, and that he earned himself a few extra hours of sleep once in a while.
Really, though, Patrick may have been more overwhelming than perfect, since Lyssandra's disappearance. Part of him still could not shake that he was part of the reason she had been kidnapped, seeing as any future children he had with her would ruin the Vance's pureblood line for good. Not that he cared, but he knew that the death eaters did and----it was still quite hard to remember that You-Know-Who had been defeated more than two weeks ago.
The squeals from across the house jolted him out of his sleep and Patrick was caught within the sheets before he managed to slide out of bed. They didn't sound like pain-induced squeaks, and living with two girls had given him quite the skill in telling random bits of noise apart. Patrick made his way to the sounds, a confused look coming over his face as his ears led him to the bathroom.
"Ew--what is that?" he commented, his nose scrunching up in disgust at the sight of Lyssandra and Emily on the floor, covered in something and smelling like vomit.
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