Tarrok paused, and he knew that hesitation was telling. With or without, he knew Aiko would be happy at his side. What she wanted was an answer that was completely his own, not an appeasement. How to word this without being hurtful, though?<br/><br/><span style="color: #0080FF">"I'm... honestly not completely sure I'd want that. You mean the world to me, and I don't doubt any kid of yours would be the sweetest thing. Problem is I don't know if I'd be a good enough father for them. Theirs a lot of awful stuff in me, from my people to my own parents. My people think children are future competition, and my father tried to kill me more often than not. Even if I didn't intend to do it, I'm not sure I wouldn't pass on more of that misery to them."</span><br/><br/>His hands gently roamed her body, just the fingertips tracing the edges of her forms. The hard edge of her collar bone, her jaw, her shoulder blades. How they could be both firm and hard, and rounded enough to register as soft. It was a nervous habit, something to do in order to not do something else. Like worry.<br/><br/><span style="color: #0080FF">"At least, thats what I think right now. We could work it out later, maybe?"</span>Tarrok shrugged.<br/><br/><span style="color: #0080FF">"But I wouldn't mind living here at all. Just you and me, nobody to bother us."</span>