The problem with Ford, one that he wasn't completely aware of, himself, was that he looked too much to the past. To what he had been and not to what he was. Maybe it was understandable. He had lived so long on his own, lived as a killer. An expendable asset whose one task was to hunt down a target and kill it. How could someone like that ever hope to be able to take care of a child? Only that was what he had been, not what he had become. It was a pity that he couldn't see that, at least not when it came to the subject of children.

"Yeah. He was." He washed another plate, rinsed it and handed it over. "But I wonder who was most scared, him or the mother."