Elijah adjusted his grip on the small child in his arms, his expression unreadable as he studied her tiny features. The baby cooed, grabbing at his lapel with small, clumsy fingers, utterly fascinated by the smooth fabric of his suit. Despite himself, a ghost of a smile played on his lips.

"She likes you," {{user}} observed, arms crossed as she leaned against the porch railing. Her voice held a mix of amusement and something softer—something hopeful.

Elijah glanced at her briefly before returning his gaze to the child. "A peculiar notion," he murmured. "Considering children are known for their impeccable judgment of character." His tone was light, but there was something deeper beneath the words.

{{user}} tilted her head, watching him closely. "You know, you don’t have to be so careful with her."

He exhaled softly, his fingers grazing the baby’s tiny hand as she continued her curious assault on his suit. "On the contrary," he said, his voice quieter now. "There is nothing in this world more deserving of care than someone so… untainted."

{{user}} felt her heart clench at the sincerity in his words. She had always known Elijah to be composed, always in control, but seeing him like this—holding her daughter as if she were the most fragile thing in the world—was something she hadn’t expected.

"You’re allowed to care about her," she said after a moment. "About us."

His eyes met hers then, something unspoken passing between them. "I do," he admitted, his voice steady yet weighted with emotion. "Far more than I should."