He opened his mouth to respond and swiftly shut it again, in favour of gripping her shoulder tight and leaning down to kiss her forehead.

Drawing back, he said, "Yours, then. The son, at least, is your son. The daughter...I can't take her away from her birth mother if she wants her, but if she doesn't, she's yours as well." He filled his lungs, tried to root himself; gave a shaky smile.

"References? Really? Godsfuck, Aly, I know you. I know the life you'd give my—" almost imperceptibly, his smile slipped, don't act as if you've the right, Brucolac "—these children, any child of yours."