Looking up, Andy smiled at this male version of her daughter brightly. "Of course, darling," she said, taking his hand and setting her glass down in her empty chair as she stood. "I would love a dance."
Placing her other hand on his shoulder, she began to dance with him. It was strange, being here sometimes. This was her child, but then again it wasn't. She had given birth to a little girl, and here a grown man stood before her. Still, she could tell he was her son, of sorts. She saw his face as a mix of her and Ted, and it was comforting.
"Dora was just a year old when I was taken," she said. "But she was fond of pink hair as well. It was the first color she changed it to when we realized what she was. Quite shocking, really."