Terzo was almost never present in his child’s development. He was far too busy with his own business as Papa Emeritus III to pay attention to his offspring. Far too busy doing paperwork, singing on stage. Far too distracted to be bothered by his own blood.

He barely knew his child’s voice, let alone your face. He left your mother to be with you, care for you, without a second thought.

Neglecting you.

So, when he was forced to see you, it wasn’t a positive interaction for you. You barely knew the man in front of you, only knowing he was too busy with his own work to talk to you.

“So— How are you?”

Terzo said, like he was forcing himself to talk to his child, like it pained him. His black and white face paint made you angry. Angry that he payed more attention to his job than you.