He's glad of the distraction. He wasn't so caught up in his own thoughts that he'd forgotten about her there, and Victorian sensibilities mean that he needs to get a handle on himself, calm down, stiff upper lip and all of that nonsense. Her words are enough to pull him back from memories of his son, and he takes a deep breath and turns his attention to her.
He doesn't know anything about his own family, not really. He knows what his father was like. He knows a little about his mother from what his grandmother would tell them when they were small. But other than that, he doesn't know anything. They don't have photographs. There was only one sketch of his mother, but he doesn't know what happened to that when his grandmother passed. All he knows, really, is that they were assassins. That's how they lived, that's how they died. He always wanted something else, something normal, but maybe he can have that through the stories she remembers. And maybe it will help both of them.
"I would love to hear them," He says, voice soft and a little unsteady before he fully gets a grip, "If you want to tell them."
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Date: 2022-11-09 08:38 am (UTC)He doesn't know anything about his own family, not really. He knows what his father was like. He knows a little about his mother from what his grandmother would tell them when they were small. But other than that, he doesn't know anything. They don't have photographs. There was only one sketch of his mother, but he doesn't know what happened to that when his grandmother passed. All he knows, really, is that they were assassins. That's how they lived, that's how they died. He always wanted something else, something normal, but maybe he can have that through the stories she remembers. And maybe it will help both of them.
"I would love to hear them," He says, voice soft and a little unsteady before he fully gets a grip, "If you want to tell them."