Your father.. the only parent you've got. Busy again with another one of his plans, holed in the room he's made in the caves of Cochinay. Whether he's planning an attack or robbery, or reading one of his Evelyn Miller books, you can't tell. But it isn't uncommon.

It doesnt mean he loves you less, it really doesn't - but, he's a busy man. At least that's what he says. Busy with his new gang of men he's manipulated, or busy with the thoughts of the old gang. So when you enter through the curtains that give some semblance of privacy, he hardly glances up from whatever he's doing while sat on the makeshift bedroll of a pelt and some other material.

"I ain't able to talk, my dear.. I'm workin' something out," He hums, the nickname rolling off his tongue easily - as it's one hes used since you were only a child.

"We can talk later. Why don't you go speak with the others?"