Chapter Text
The depths of the love he feels terrify him.
How can something so small, so fragile, be his? Little black booties and mittens. Bright green eyes. A felt moustache above a painted mouth.
His child is Devil sent. A gift from Satan himself in return for years of sinful service.
A surprise, but a welcome one
What should have been an expected fact of the matter is this: where Copia has a son, he also has a Dewdrop.
Right now, the ghoul is curled up on the floor beside the cot. Purring loudly. Head shooting up to stare through the bars at every little noise the baby makes.
There is no point forcing him out -- there are better uses for the rolled up newspaper and spray bottle Copia keeps to hand. Dewdrop's attention allows Copia time to rest.
Besides, Dewdrop's glowing eyes are far worse when glanced staring through the windows on a dark night.