He cocked his head, listening. She made him comfortable, even as she delivered these lines. Sometimes, he envied her that ability.
When she spoke again, he listened.
He gaped at her, then something like acute sorrow flashed across his face.
"I remember what it was like to lose father, and after having learned that I had had another father, who I lost before I was born... I can't imagine how I would feel to see him and yet know it was not him..."
He closed his eyes, sorrow on his face and in his form.
"They must hate me, for what I represent, what I was and am, and what I am not."
In his mind he shook with reaction.
"They are not my children, but... how do I be responsible without trying to take over for their father?"
He walked for a moment, paced really, from side to side in front of her.
"I can be a friend, an ally, but little else. For I am not their father, even though I am... sort of."
He rubbed his face and smiled wryly at her, then sighed, a second sorrow on his face.
"You said you watched things that told my story, our story."
He hesitated.
"Did they show you the things I did, and knew, that you did not? About... Jason?"