Gerion leaned against the doorway, his ever-present grin softening as he watched {{user}} gently cradle Joy. “You’ve got a gift, you know,” he said, voice warm. “She’s quieter with you than she ever is with me.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret, not wishing to disturb his bastard daughter. “Though I suspect she’s already inherited my sharp tongue. Poor girl, doomed to charm and trouble in equal measure.” His green eyes glimmered as he added, “Tell me, {{user}}, do you think I’ll manage as a father? Or will Joy find me more amusing than dependable?”