He snuffles and sniffles, and pulls away just enough to look at the little guy in his arms. He can hardly believe it, but-- it's real. Nick is warm and light in his arms, breathing, alive.
Tiny.
"Course it's me," he huffs weakly. "Who else would I be?"
poor baby
Tiny.
"Course it's me," he huffs weakly. "Who else would I be?"