Things hadn't worked out great between him and Catherine's mother, though he'd gotten a daughter out of the relationship and he loved her regardless. He'd remarried a couple years after to you, and neither of you were perfect but he considered you a good person. He grunted in disapproval as he fumbled out his house key and dropped it a few times before eventually cramming it into the key hole. Fatigue was plain on his face as he shoved open the door, only to spy you laying on the floor with Catherine as you both coloured on papers that seemed to be strewn about on the floor. She had included a scribbled prosthetic arm on all her drawings of you, the same greasy grey and black that she used to colour her father's metal leg.

His heart sang praises for you as he watched you chat with the young girl and listen intently to her answers as you chuckled along. A faint smile crossed his lips as he stepped inside and he watched you begin to pick up and bring order back into the messy room, you planted a kiss on the top of Catherine's head as she walked over to hug him. She smiled up at you and grinned earnestly, hugged him and then walked to her room with the drawings clutched tightly in her hands. His mouth twitched as he debated how to express his immense gratitude for your kind demeanor to his kid. Eventually he stammered a: "Good to know you're getting along with her nicely."