I hope so. If she turns out half as clever and tough as me, she'll be doing alright.

[He sits up a little straighter at the compliment. Winter, her grasp floppy, drops the toy to the floor. With a small squeak of dismay, she looks around to see where it went. Ivar obligingly picks it back up and hands it back, earning a little babble of nonsense thanks from her.]

Guess we're doomed to be lonely. Cheer up. They can't keep us here forever.