[ The whirlwind of feelings that come with Inigo's reaction take Roland for quite a journey. For one thing, he's both incredibly pleased that Inigo took the news so well, but also terrified that he only has the chance to tell one son such a development. It takes a lot not to dwell on that - the letting go of the past, little by little, or that even as he moves forward one step at a time, Roland is also keen on saving whatever he can of the world left behind. The fact that Inigo speaks in present tense too, tells him enough. The shared desire of both of them to return to what might not even be there, waiting for them. ]
Ah, well...! I do.
[ Taken aback for quite some time, longer than expected, until Roland quietly clears his throat and offers as many answers as he can. Remembering every question headed his way, not missing a single one. He may not have had the pleasure of growing up with a sibling, but if he can give that to his son...Regardless of the implication. When, Roland. Not if, hold on to that. Don't let go. Not until you see it for yourself. ]
He's a boy named William. Will, for short. [ Super cute...? Well, he's got his parents' looks, dark hair, dark eyes, if any of those are important? ] He...He likes reading. [ Or Roland assumes he does. If that's the only thing Will can do while waiting for him to visit, is an entirely different matter altogether. But it must have some meaning, asking for storybooks when he needs anything, something to read while passing the time. Roland's speeches on TV too deep, too adult for Will to latch on to. Just happy to see Roland's face, even through a screen. ] The more fantastical the story, the better. Like fairy tales, or daring adventures in faraway worlds, kind of like what we do here on the train.
[ Little by little, his voice grows fonder. A natural dip, considering Inigo's enthusiasm, his outward acceptance that really, Roland had no business doubting at all. And that last bit - wanting to be cool for him. He chuckles in affection, taking his hand and ruffling Inigo's hair slightly with it. ]
Just be yourself, pup. I know he'll think you're cool. There's no doubt about it. [ And he's all alone, too. Nurses to talk to, books to bury himself in. Roland's other failure; to play dual roles where one never suffered for the one. Father of nation, father to son. He looks down at his feet, passing the moment, wondering if there's something to be said apart from Will's existence.
That Will can't run around or play with Inigo the way he might be thinking of. That even now, even if the missiles didn't decimate him, the rot in his blood would.
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Ah, well...! I do.
[ Taken aback for quite some time, longer than expected, until Roland quietly clears his throat and offers as many answers as he can. Remembering every question headed his way, not missing a single one. He may not have had the pleasure of growing up with a sibling, but if he can give that to his son...Regardless of the implication. When, Roland. Not if, hold on to that. Don't let go. Not until you see it for yourself. ]
He's a boy named William. Will, for short. [ Super cute...? Well, he's got his parents' looks, dark hair, dark eyes, if any of those are important? ] He...He likes reading. [ Or Roland assumes he does. If that's the only thing Will can do while waiting for him to visit, is an entirely different matter altogether. But it must have some meaning, asking for storybooks when he needs anything, something to read while passing the time. Roland's speeches on TV too deep, too adult for Will to latch on to. Just happy to see Roland's face, even through a screen. ] The more fantastical the story, the better. Like fairy tales, or daring adventures in faraway worlds, kind of like what we do here on the train.
[ Little by little, his voice grows fonder. A natural dip, considering Inigo's enthusiasm, his outward acceptance that really, Roland had no business doubting at all. And that last bit - wanting to be cool for him. He chuckles in affection, taking his hand and ruffling Inigo's hair slightly with it. ]
Just be yourself, pup. I know he'll think you're cool. There's no doubt about it. [ And he's all alone, too. Nurses to talk to, books to bury himself in. Roland's other failure; to play dual roles where one never suffered for the one. Father of nation, father to son. He looks down at his feet, passing the moment, wondering if there's something to be said apart from Will's existence.
That Will can't run around or play with Inigo the way he might be thinking of. That even now, even if the missiles didn't decimate him, the rot in his blood would.
No. Stop. ]