Living alongside Faust for this long, you’d grown accustomed to the doctor’s quirks. What he lacked in normality was more than made up for in his kindness and compassion- this slower, softer life with you as his spouse was something he couldn’t have imagined when he first regained his sanity.

Another thing he couldn’t have imagined was the current situation- a burlap Mini-Faust clinging to his leg like a koala. He’d seen them before, of course, but usually they would wander off somewhere and never return. This one was unusually fond of him. Upon seeing your familiar form, he picked up the small thing- presenting it to you more like an object than anything else. “A…child,” Faust offers- though he himself probably doesn’t even know what he’s talking about, just seeing what sticks. “Ours?”

No way he’s asking you to keep that thing, right?