Avery looks between his two parents, aware of the conversation, but clearly confused at how tense things are, on such a bright clear morning, which would typically be filled with laughter and delight as the three of them got ready for the day together.

"I'd...hoped," his words come out haltingly, shaky, but genuine, "that - maybe I could be enough." He glances at Avery, and then again at Alecto, at the new shared life already growing within him. "But I do know now that I can't - that I could never - be enough."

"I wasn't - I'm still not - ready for what I think this means. Because of what I know I've done. But that's my responsibility to bear, not yours."