The feel of her hand in his, even with gloves, was warm, close. It felt like them against the world, against this death, against this darkness that seemed to just haunt everything, and was he glad she was here. But shit, did she have to be the one to help bury all these kids? What a shitty responsibility.

"Dude, you guys need to get with the times. Central heat. S'mores. Medicine. Shitting reality T.V.. Basebook." He squeezed her hand, letting her lead the way. It was fine to walk, get them away from the rest of the place and people and crap and bring them out here. Quiet. Well, a little quieter, anyway.

I'd like to, she said and it caught him off guard. There's no thought of If you knew what he was, you might think differently because Junior was perfect the way he is, and if someone couldn't love him that was on them. He's proud of his perfect kid. He was goddamn special.

"Dude, he's the best at basketball! Like, sometimes he gets a foul for chewing on the ball, but whatever; they've only had to replace it like three times now." His voice dripped with fondness, at least until she said that. A good father? Shit. Really? Really?

He stopped walking, pulling her to a halt without meaning to. "Are you messing with me? Because seriously? No one's said that to me before." That might have been because he tried to bone Junior's teacher once at a meeting. Or because he taught him the Birds and the Bees with the Internet and Pornhub. Or because a million other reasons. But she sounded like she meant it, and that...that was fucking awesome.

That was the nicest thing anyone had said to him in a long, long time, and it showed.