[h2]Maceroy Falthon[/h2]
Being a widowed father had its upsides and downsides. Upside: You learned various basic skills very quickly, ranging from housekeeping to paying bills, or you would fail to integrate into society. Downside: Not much personal time, not between work and child rearing and housekeeping, even if Evelyn had helped out in that regard for most of it. And it wasn't like he didn't love Evelyn very very much, of course he did, she was the light of his life... it was just that twenty years ago, he'd anticipated that she'd be in her own home by now. Of course, twenty years ago, he had anticipated a life far different to this one, where his wife still lived, and he wasn't sequestered away in a city as part of an economic system that to this day made a small number of people extremely rich, to the detriment of both the planet and the larger masses.

Damn their backward hides.

He'd also largely anticipated that Evelyn might wear slightly less revealing clothes around the house as an adult. Once again, though, he was caught out as she entered the kitchen, when the door opening had him look over to see her with nothing but that blinking oversized shirt on, and consequently leading him to retract his gaze back to the meal he was cooking with an unsettled grunt and the sound of ruffling feathers beneath his own shirt. Unlike Evelyn, of course, he had the benefit of slight personal modifications that let him hide his wings beneath relatively normal clothing. He'd meant to ask if she wanted the same for a while, but somehow, the idea of altering his daughter was far more disturbing than simply changing himself.

'Morning, Eve,' he greeted, waving to her as he started finishing up the meal. Basic bacon and eggs, portioned for two, plus some fruit on the side for health reasons, promptly placed down on the plates set up in advance. He'd had twenty years to get over any potential weirdness there. 'I hope you slept well, dear. Any more work today?' He knew she'd been looking for something more steady than the coding she'd been doing for somebody's website, and he wanted to make sure her day would be properly occupied - not to mention that she'd be able to support herself sooner or later. He'd gotten lucky by getting into that teaching job, to some extent; for most of last decade, the economy was doing decently, and yet now it seemed even low-level jobs were utterly saturated with those who needed them. Low-level jobs specifically, perhaps. Either way, it had not been particularly kind to Evelyn.