Maeve tried her best then to make her grandson look presentable. When he was younger and smaller it was much easier to do that since she was the one dressing him up every morning for school or church, she made sure that he would be in Sunday's Best for every service.
But as he got older he cared less and less about his appearance and became more unruly: wouldn't wear his school uniform neck tie, would lose it entirely, refused to tuck his shirt in, wouldn't brush his hair, left his buttons on done— to the average person he looked less than a high-school minor and more like a gang affiliated delinquent.
Maeve tried to reason with him to dress more like" a properly raised omega," but Mikaela hated hearing it, not wanting to even be associated with being an Omega. Maeve really hoped he would come around one day. She knew how he refined he could look with just minimal effort.
— • —
Mikaela's eyes wander from each corner of the room as he beholds his disorganized surroundings.
