It was here that the difference between father and son could be felt. A detachment, however that Achilles could recognize.
"She will understand the grave error at some time. Perhaps," he paused again, "one day...." it was all he could discuss on the matter beyond that. That situation had completely worn him out, in the same manner it had during Troy. It was harder now after having seen her face, felt her skin and embraced her sweetly. Had he never seen her face again, and they walked the same plane without ever knowing---that seemed easier.
He huffed lightly, straightening and dropping that subject without so much as a warning. He started to walk, towards one of the refreshment shops for coffee, guiding Neoptolemus with his hand on his back. Achilles had no idea what it was like to be a father, but if it was anything like how he cared for Patroclus like a brother, then even time could make him ease into it.