Seaside Moors in russia tragedy, everybody die

"You can't disappear on kids."

He parked the lady-love segue and nodded sagely, whiskers bouncing in the breeze. The resident crabs held their collective breaths - was Vlad about to say something repentant, perhaps even sweet? No, of course not.

"Thees gud - you meck learnings," he praised, as though Rosalyn had been reciting a lesson. What a relief - the gross-father-weird-lady-love-situation hadn't warped her mind beyond the capabilities of a strong, handsome, experienced mentor - an advanced expert in all things child-rearing (having raised exactly zero children). 

"I meck menny learnins on bebe. I stay," a decision made, not a question. Vlad leaned to the side to address her belly, flattened his ears and shouted into the waters of the womb: "I GREND-PA NOW." His yellow eyes flashed up to hers, soft, pleading that she would not make him ask.