Meda could have shrieked with joy at the facial expressions alone. Her younger father was so like him, of course, and had instinctively mastered many of the things that had defined her relationship with him, but this was the face she had known all her life, from her very first memory. This was a man that couldn't be replaced, just as no one would have been able to replace her younger father. They were the same man, yet even Meda had to acknowledge the differences. Not that the differences mattered, not to her.

She shifted again so she could cling to him once more and squeezed him tightly, resting her chin on his chest.

"Hi."