[Johan's POV]
The grandmaster of Eskrima, his Grampa Peter, was a man he imagined him to be: greying spikes of hair, wrinkled tan skin, and a protruding beer belly like a kangaroo's baby pouch.
Johan swore never to indulge with too much alcohol when he grew up. Heck, the moment he developed baby fats in his stomach, he will start doing one hundred sit-ups and run like a headless chicken ten kilometers a day. He wouldn't do the other exercises because he didn't want to go bald.
But there's one thing he needed an answer to as they sat in the kitchenette sipping tea. Johan leaned closer to his grandfather and whispered close to his ear. "Grandpa, who's the older sister beside Grandpa Peter? Is she Daddy's cousin?"
Grandpa, I think you're worrying about something non-existent. LOL!