Sonia looks at him with genuine surprise. He's...not exactly the fatherly type. But then she thinks about how wretched it must be, to be separated from your child like that. Like her mother has been with Sonia and Olivia. Sonia's stomach twists in sympathy, her own expression sobering.

"I didn't know you were a father," she says a hushed voice. It seems somehow appropriate to speak only quietly, as if careful not to disturb a sleeping child. "I'm sorry."

It's just a platitude, but there's nothing else she can offer except her hand to beckon him closer. She smiles sadly.

"It was much nicer before the war. And...in the springtime. It's not always this cold." She hesitates. "Will you -- help? With the coffin?"