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Sandy glanced towards the man from his position in the kitchen. He poured the boiling water into a French press, letting it sit as he grabbed two mugs and placed them on the counter. "Cream or sugar?" he asked, scooping sugar from a small bowl into his own mug after taking creamer out of the fridge.
His home that Cliff was pacing around was just messy enough to belong to an artist. There was a half-finished clay vase on a spintable near the back wall, the dining room table covered with sketches of a new sculpture Sandy had recently begun working on. Pictures of his works and a couple of paintings covered several of the walls, but the piece de resistance was the Cucchi on the wall. It was delicately illuminated by a small lamp, but clearly of a far higher caliber than several of the paintings around it. It was more than a great work of art, it was special.
Once their coffee was made, Sandy brought the two mugs out and held one out to Cliff, then sat on his couch and crossed his legs. "Now then, you were about to explain why I should stop seeing Alcott," he reminded the celebrity, sipping his coffee nonchalantly.

He sipped the coffee, uncrossing and recrossing his legs. "So you're doing this out of kindness?" asked Sandy after a while. "I'm sure you know the story better than I, Mr. Northwind, but I was certain the break up was rather amicable. It was made clear to me that the age difference and the lack of chemistry became too much. I might be wrong, though, if he's as ruthless and selfish as you say."

Sandy set down his coffee cup, lacing his fingers on his knee. "Who's to say I won't get bored of him first?" he pointed out. "I'm sure you've done a bit of a history on me, how else would you know where I'm staying? It's very well known that I'm a bit promiscuous and hard to please. Isn't it entirely possible that I'll find your father unable to fully satisfy me and leave him for someone else?"

As cool as he was pretending to be, Sandy still jumped and yelped when the door burst open. He placed a hand over his chest, staring between the two as his heart rate returned to normal. "Another Northwind?" he observed, wondering how many more were going to come into his house. "Am I going to be warned/scolded by the whole family?" he asked, exasperated.

He didn't have a headache before all this started, but he definitely did now. Rubbing his temple, he sat back on the couch and crossed his legs. "Guys, this really isn't necessary." He tried to insist, to no avail. Great. This was just going to keep getting worse, wasn't it? He stood up, preparing to intervene, when Alcott boomed from up the stairs. He looked up, smiling softly in relief, then leaned on the wall and crossed his arms. "Just to add in, I can't have kids. I am, in fact, a man." He gestured to himself, as if it weren't obvious.

Aaaand now the headache's a migraine.
Sandy clenched his fists, sand shifting outside the cabin. It crept over the windows and around the building, covering everything. The only light was from the upstairs hall light. With his eyes shut and head pounding, Sandy threw his hands out, the sand exploding out with a loud boom. "That is enough!!" he yelled until the room was silent. Taking a calming breath, he opened his eyes and cracked his neck, then turned to Cliff. "Let's start with you.
"First of all, questioning your paternity doesn't work like that. Even if your dad was whoring around, it wouldn't change whether or not you're related. More than that, if your dad is really as big a jerk as you say he is and got a client knocked up, do you really think an a** like that would take in the kid and spend years lying about who their mother is? More than that, you look just like your sister. I doubt he adopted two kids from the same client who doesn't like condoms. Second, that man is your father. Even if you don't like him, he gave you life. It wouldn't hurt to give him some level of respect, and bringing up a job like that when you don't know if I know for the express reason of hurting him is just a d!ck move. You're a grown-up. You need to act like it."
He turned to Alcott next. "Look, I understand why you're upset, but divorce is a hard thing, even on adults. Cliff is the oldest. In most situations, the eldest child takes the separation the hardest. You said most of the kids stayed with your wife when you divorced, naturally they'll be on her side. That doesn't excuse his behavior, but it wouldn't hurt to let him know you get it. Out of all people, I know you do."
Sandy stepped back, shaking his head. "Look, I shouldn't even be involved. This isn't my family. This has nothing to do with me, other than that I'm with Alcott now. But I love him, and even if he left me tomorrow, I would still want him to be happy. He's your father. His happiness is important too." Realizing he might've overstepped some bounds, Sandy moved towards the stairs. "I'm gonna go upstairs while you three talk. Please don't break any of my sculptures. They are all originals and I don't like making copies."

The door creaked open, Sandy peering out at the hybrid. "Only if you promise there aren't any other Northwind children waiting out there to yell at me," he joked, then opened the door wider and moved towards the bed.

"That's just because they found out I have cool sand powers," he teased, gently nudging shoulders with Alcott. "Anyway, it's fine. It's not the first time this has happened. I really get around, if you recall." Sandy looked down at his hands on his lap, his smile fading. "But I've never really been in a relationship like this."