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When they first met, Micah wanted nothing to do with him, barely able to look George in the eye, and kept his distance like he was allergic to his son. Knowing this, George feels even happier when Micah lets him sit beside him at the campfire, right in his personal space; Micah doesn’t touch George, his posture rigid, still awkward around his son, but George knows it will take time for his father to completely let his guard down.
“Hey, kid,” Micah murmurs without looking at him, letting George wriggle even further into his personal space, and George smiles, grateful for even the simplest interaction with his papa.