A shiver goes down Joshua's spine and he almost whimpers. He recognizes that tone, and the emotional catharsis of the exchange between them, the bone-deep relief of having Alecto here again in front of him (of being forgiven for his weakness), of the unbelievably bright future stretching out before them, makes him especially susceptible and suggestible.

He moves almost as though he's in a daze, but he knows all the steps by heart, even with the addition of Daphne, gently arranging the children into what would (hopefully) be an uninterrupted slumber, banks the fire so it would keep them warm until morning, tucking them under a veritable nest of blankets and pillows. Avery looks completely worn out from the excitement, having falling asleep between one moment and the next, still holding Daphne's small hand.

Then he walks towards the bedroom as directed, his steps light, hopeful, every single part of him wondering, anticipating. It's truly a wonder that he can still even walk, that he isn't crawling across the floor on hands and knees, overcome with the emotions of the moment, the ever-present but newly renewed desire to give Alecto absolutely anything and everything he wanted that Joshua could make or provide.

Even himself.