Gideon snorts, smiling down at the tablet in his hands. Seeing the little boy pouting as he stomps off does suggest Felix in a mood--rather more impotently, with little effect on his surrounding environment.

He and his cousin share a familial stubbornness. Have they met?

Of course, with that thought comes the memory of a morning in the gardens with Mildmay: of being pressed to his breaking point and losing his temper, and of receiving swift rebuke from a friend. He's fortunate, he realizes, that it was Mildmay who witnessed his difficulties with child-minding. Felix might have been rather more begrudging after.

It would be best, he suspects, to keep his distance from Ryuga nonetheless, on the danger of courting Felix's disapproval.