... maybe it's time the doctor told him. The boy's riddled with more drugs than old Cohen on opening night, but what the hell.
So when he speaks up again, he's quiet.
"I have a daughter," he begins. "Not mine. Adopted." He still won't turn and face Jack. "I found her when she... escaped... from the house of the Little Sisters. Before they could do this." A limp-wristed hand beckons down to the corpse. "But when the war began, she disappeared..." he brings it up to pass it over his brow - "... and I haven't seen her since."
"You understand, molodoi, I'm not an optimist." His tone darkens. "And you know what is easy to assume."
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... maybe it's time the doctor told him. The boy's riddled with more drugs than old Cohen on opening night, but what the hell.
So when he speaks up again, he's quiet.
"I have a daughter," he begins. "Not mine. Adopted." He still won't turn and face Jack. "I found her when she... escaped... from the house of the Little Sisters. Before they could do this." A limp-wristed hand beckons down to the corpse. "But when the war began, she disappeared..." he brings it up to pass it over his brow - "... and I haven't seen her since."
"You understand, molodoi, I'm not an optimist." His tone darkens. "And you know what is easy to assume."