"We're not yet done eating––" She slipped a roll from the plate and put it on her bare one, she'd had enough to fill herself earlier, prior his arrival, but she was not only eating with the appetite of a god, but with one of two now. A sweet little half godling, it surely would be pathetically precious once born. Likely would move this sentimental man to cry, and thus she wagered with herself. A thousand rolled heads if he does not cry, and the safety of those heads if he does–– to ironically show mercy from a father's wept tears.
If any such father would find it in their emotion to do as such. For no father of mine had been ever moved to weep for myself.
no subject
If any such father would find it in their emotion to do as such. For no father of mine had been ever moved to weep for myself.