[He misses Bruno's wearied complaint, which is a shame, but at least he understands that last sentence. Polnareff laughs softly, his fingers playing against his stomach.]
Our princess, huh? Yeah, I bet. Our darling princess. Mm. What would we name her?
[A baby girl, tiny and loud and perfect. He knows how to raise girls. Or at least: he knows how to raise a teenage girl, and he and Bruno can figure out the younger years together.]
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Our princess, huh? Yeah, I bet. Our darling princess. Mm. What would we name her?
[A baby girl, tiny and loud and perfect. He knows how to raise girls. Or at least: he knows how to raise a teenage girl, and he and Bruno can figure out the younger years together.]