If she doesn't want to see him look sad, then it's a good thing she doesn't look at him while she explains all this.

"When adults fail children, it says more about them. That wasn't your fault." He's not good at sitting still, so now what he's finished with his tea, he runs the hand not holding hers up and down her legs in his lap like he's trying to warm her up, except he hardly notices he's doing it.

"I was near that age when my father stopped turning back up. He was a sailor, and my parents were never married, so it's hardly surprising -- downright banal, even." He lifts a hand to make a dismissive gesture, like ending a spell or shooing away a troublesome fly. "In your professional opinion, would you say the same of me? That it was because I was too much trouble to keep?" Except maybe he understands better than he's letting on, because that's sort of exactly what he's always thought, deep down. "In my opinion, their failures don't define you, your survival does."