( Charlie nods softly — but very seriously. Peter is a boy, a fact which has always been a bit of an odd strain within the household. There are secret things tucked just under the floorboards of this home. Old family secrets, kept hushed and unspoken. She doesn't understand them, and neither does Peter, but both of the Graham children could... feel something, pulling. Perhaps for all of their lives. Charlie most of all.

Something strange. Something not right.

But when the girl says what she does next, Charlie finally looks up to meet her gaze, directly now. Eyes wide, clearly a bit surprised. No one's ever told her that it'd be better if she was a girl. )

Mom said... Grandma always wanted her to have a boy. I don't know why.

( She fiddles with her hands for a moment or two before voicing something timidly. ) Maybe because... because she missed... him. Uncle Charles.

( Charles... There's no doubt Charlie was named after the man. And then, blunt and detached from emotion— )

He killed himself.