[He seems like he may also be on the verge of some kind of rest (not sleep, he doubts sleep will come for a long while), but then she whispers, and he sucks in a breath, seized by a knot tight in his throat.]
Thank you.
[His breath is tight, lighter and more raw than just a whisper, barely any voice beyond his mouth forming the words.
He holds her tighter and buries his face in her hair for a moment, then speaks, a little stronger.]
I'd be proud to call you my daughter. Anyone who wouldn't be is a madman.
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Thank you.
[His breath is tight, lighter and more raw than just a whisper, barely any voice beyond his mouth forming the words.
He holds her tighter and buries his face in her hair for a moment, then speaks, a little stronger.]
I'd be proud to call you my daughter. Anyone who wouldn't be is a madman.