Kelvin found his father exactly where he'd left him, standing over the wrecked dinner table, wine glass forgotten in his hand.
"Hey," Kelvin said, hovering in the doorway.
Webb looked up fast, something guarded crossing his face before he set the glass down.
"My soon to be wife made me do this," Kelvin said, stepping in. "For the record. She scares me a lot, honestly, more than I've ever admitted out loud, and she made it very clear I wasn't allowed to get back on that ship without saying something first."
"She's not wrong to be scary," Webb said, careful. "About what, though."
"She didn't quite get everything right in that story," Kelvin said. "About us. It wasn't power that got her, not entirely, that's the part she leaves out because it's less romantic. It was that I was the only person who never once treated her like a weapon that happened to talk. But that's not why I'm here."
Webb waited.
"I need to ask you something," Kelvin said. "Hypothetically."
