She could hardly believe. Even with him standing right in front of her, she had to stare at him for a moment. Not too long ago, she was talking to him-- not really him, of course, but it was close enough to make her almost nostalgic for the hell that was Columbia. Rapture had been a different kind of hell, the kind that clung to her even now as she remembered the way Fontaine’s wrench connected with her skull multiple times.
Without a second thought, one of her hands shot out and grabbed the side of his face, confirming that he was indeed real. It was almost reminiscent of when he fell through the ceiling in her tower. She pulled her hand back and knew she was wrong. It wasn’t Columbia she missed, and she knew that. It was Booker himself, it was the certainty of safety with him around, odd as it was for a girl with god-like abilities to want for such a thing. But that was only natural, right? He was her father. Beyond his mistakes, he had done everything, sacrificed himself even, to guarantee her safety. Part of her was selfishly glad that he was there.
“You’re alive. Real?” she said, voice shaky and full of uncertainty. The last time she’d spoken to him, he was just a projection of her own subconscious, personified by the only thing she could have possibly trusted as she walked to her own end in Rapture. Though her eyes were welling up, she did her best to keep herself composed.
“I can’t believe you’re here. This place is...it isn’t exactly welcoming,” she said, forcing herself to keep an even tone.