Back in the shop, Aramis was still holding a now-crying Henry, and Agnes seemed to be searching the folds of Henry’s blanket for something.
“What happened? Did he say anything?” he asked over the baby’s cries, to which Constance shook her head before setting the knife back on the counter.
“It’s alright, Henry,” Agnes soothed as she looked at the floor around her. “Oh, his pacifier must’ve fallen out as I rushed over here. Hold on…”
“Try rocking him,” Anne gently suggested to Aramis as Agnes started looking through her bag. “Or singing.”
Following Anne’s advice, Aramis started to rock the baby, though apparently to him, ‘rocking’ meant dipping and dancing with the baby, all the while singing some jaunty folk-sounding tune Constance had never heard of. She went to share a look with Anne over his ridiculousness, but she found her friend smiling fondly at Aramis’ antics, and to Constance’s surprise, as well as Aramis’s, his technique ended up working.
He looked up at them, a grin on his face. “It’s a gift,” he shrugged.
