"Oh," Sinthia replied. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," she offered, though a little awkwardly. She's never had a mother; she never knew hers, and birth wasn't exactly a memory she could look back on fondly, eight years later.

She'd settle for talking about the pictures instead. "If you want to show me a picture, that would be okay. If I recognize him maybe you can find him?" she asks. Sinthia already know Johann is not here, and she vehemently hopes he won't ever be here, because she isn't ready to go back to giving up every little impossible freedom she's found so many decades and centuries in the future. "I don't have any pictures of my family, though."