"You're very welcome," Robert said. With another crisis averted, Robert headed back upstairs, and as he did he heard Michael's voice.
"Have you taken leave of every one of yours brain cells?" he was asking.
"I want to do what you do! I can do it! i can already pick pockets. Piece of cake...." It was Mira's voice. Robert repressed a need to snicker and he went to Michael's room to find the door open, and Mira was there pleading her case with him.
"You are not going to rob Gringotts, and that's final," Michael was saying firmly. "And if you try, not only will I not teach you anything ever, I'm liable to wipe out every memory from your little mind. Do you understand me?"
"You're cute when you're mad. You know that?" she laughed. It was all Robert could do to not burst out laughing.
"Mira," he said, trying hard not to give in to his amusement at the whole situation. "We really do have to defer to Michael's judgement on how and when and who goes for Gringotts, if we do it at all. And if you want to earn an apprenticeship with him, calling him cute will not win you any points with him."
"Have you asked your father about this?" Michael asked.
"I'm a grown woman. I do not need my father's permission," she said.
"How old are you anyway?" Michael asked.
"I'm 24," she said. Michael and Robert both scowled at her.
"Oh, alright, I'm 19." Robert scowled harder.
"Alright, alright. I'm 18--almost. I'll be 18 in two weeks."
"You're a minor. I am not teaching you how to rob Gringotts while you're underage," Michael said.
"And he's not doing it with broken bones in his back," Robert said. "You'll have to give him time to heal before you do much of anything. And by then, you should, hopefully, be a grownup--if you're telling us the truth. Until then, yes. You do need your father's permission. Got that?" She groaned and sighed heavily.
"Yes, Uncle Robert," she said.
"Now go help Aunt Kate with dinner," he told her.