[Remembering his siblings always makes Steinbeck feel warm - there's something about family that sinks into his chest, lightens up what he thought was long gone dark. No matter what, the people he loves matter to him, above all else.]

[Sometimes it still feels like he has a soul.]

[He smiles, almost a little bashful, at the shoulder bump - he bumps the other back, cheekily.]

Aw, come on, you're doing way too much for me! But look, could I say no to that? I couldn't. I really need to make it up to you. Ain't right to sit there and not let the cook have a good time, too.