[It won't ever cease to amaze and amuse him, just what humans are and what they can be, from the best of it to the worst. Having lived a mortician's life, he has seen both in their extremes and all in between, and now he is seeing it again. Vincent has no real concept of what he is promising to fight against, but he would do it anyway for his boy.]

[How very touching. It warms a place in him that he knows has always been there, only in slumber until some decades before. He exhales softly at the touch of their foreheads, closing his eyes and letting his fingers knead gently on the skin and cloth they touch in kind for the affection.]

I would ask you not to make a pest of yourself to the demon, but I would be grateful to have the help in my research. I know enough of one or two languages to be a pest myself, but not enough to truly understand it. Most of it is in English, to my relief. But please. The next time I visit the archives here, I'll bring you along.

[That question, as difficult as it is to pose, is as difficult to answer. But really, there is only one answer. He could just as easily lie about it and Vincent would know no different, but it is what it is.] I had one son. Long ago.