In spite of himself and the overarching tragedy, Ulric barked with laughter. Leave it to a child -- he was sorry, but Mellie remained slated as such in his mind -- to be so blunt during times of crisis. Brilliantly so. He sincerely hoped that Flynras was shaping up to take after his delightfully impertinent aunt or righteous mother. Modeling oneself after virtually anyone but Ulric would have been preferable.
All this talk of families and they could have been one. Nearly losing himself to woe, it would take an introduction to the works of the Bard of Avon to put into perspective the relative ease of his life.
Typically, he wouldn't hide emotions from the company of women. He did, in fact, pinch himself on occasion just to inspire the well of tears and the fawning which came about as a result. A sensitive man was like catnip to women at the bar. Today he appeared to subscribe to notions of toxic masculinity, wiping furiously at his face and trying to muffle the series of miserable sniffles. Rather than directly acknowledge Mellie's query, he congestedly declared, "I must apologize for any grief I unknowingly caused you and yours. There's nothing I can do to make amends, not really, but please know I am forever committed to making things right. You need only say it, and so it shall be done."
For all his prattling, it was as if he thought himself solely responsible for the boy's death. Perhaps even for the act which left Roslyse with child. In hindsight, he would be able to admit that it was pure selfishness to take their sorrow and turn it into a crusade to absolve himself of guilt. As it was, he flailed between the necessary stages of grief like a chicken with its head cut off. Denial and Anger were old friends; Bargaining directed his actions now, and Depression would be along soon enough. Acceptance? Now there was an elusive bedfellow if he'd ever heard of one.
Vaguely, he wondered if Roslyse ever regretted bearing his son or if she felt glad for even the short amount of time she had with him. Ulric didn't get around to asking. Nor did he think to ask what their son's hobbies were, what his dreams consisted of, or if he preferred the sword over spellcasting; these questions and more would make up a thousand little things meant to occur to him much too late.
The sudden inability to stomach a drink led him to fish out coin enough to reimburse Mellie for her wasted kindness. "With that said, I hope you can forgive me for stepping away. I need to collect myself and my wares." Assuming they were where he left them. If he didn't care before, he certainly didn't care now. "I will be in touch. I swear it."