i keep on running toward the fire

And if you feel like night is falling
I wanna be the one you're calling

Hotaru's offer had George raising his eyebrows. "Ready to meet my mother so quickly?" he teased. "And here we haven't even gotten to dinner." For all his teasing, his smile was grateful, his gaze affectionate, and he balanced his basket in the crook of his elbow to rest his free hand momentarily over hers on his arm.

But then she was talking about her own family, about her children. Not, notably, about any past love interests, save for the one mention of a one-night stand, for which he was almost grateful. Almost. In a way, it was almost painful to consider: children, but without someone to share the successes, the trials, the tribulations with? Losing children, with no one to understand that pain? Hotaru rose in his esteem, and he squeezed her hand with his own before releasing it to steady the basket. "I'm sorry," he said softly, but without pity. He didn't try to empathize; there was nothing he would be able to say to dull that pain, even if he understood its magnitude.

"I've heard of Deimos," he said with a nod, making a mental note to try not to piss Hotaru off. Though she was surely more than capable of taking care of herself, he didn't want anyone with the moniker "The Resurrected Sword" coming after him.

Thought George was happy to listen to her talk, her next question bought with it a sense of relief. He hadn't meant to pry at old wounds, and he hoped that he hadn't put too much of a damper on the evening. At least if he could change the subject, maybe things would be fine. "I don't have any," he said. He'd never wanted anyone to end up like him, alone but for one parent. "But I like kids. I just - I'd want them to have two parents, if at all possible."

'Cause I believe that you could lead the way

George