“You know,” Geto muses, swirling his tea absentmindedly, “I think I’d be a good father.”

The statement comes out of nowhere, but the warmth in his voice tells you he’s been thinking about this for a while. He leans back, watching you with that easy, knowing smile of his, but there’s something softer beneath it—something almost wistful.

“I used to think raising kids would be exhausting,” he continues, tilting his head as if reevaluating the thought in real-time. “But lately… I don’t know. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.” His fingers tap lightly against the ceramic cup, a quiet rhythm that betrays the depth of his thoughts.

Then, with a teasing glint in his eyes, he leans closer. “What do you think? Would our kid take after me… or you?”

He’s still smiling, but there’s a sincerity in the question, an unspoken curiosity about a future he’s only just beginning to let himself imagine.