[ He did not expect grave commitment to what is ultimately a bit. John lifts his free hand to rub a thumb at his temple again, looking both troubled and accepting. ]

Then let's start with the easy bit, and hope we don't need to get hands-on. [ He gives Asriel's hand a little squeeze as he says it, to make plain that this is another unreasonably obvious joke. Before Asriel can rile at this, he cuts in: ] Look, I'll find something relationship-themed to share, in honor of the season.

[ Something about craving connection, he doesn't say. The longing for touch doesn't feel so foreign to him, but he's aware of the itch every time Asriel drops his hand: there's an urgency underlying the breathlessness. Contact being as crucial as air, something along those lines. He gets the poetry of it. ]

This one's no grand secret. Not anymore, anyway. [ He goes wry again, and silent, for just a beat too long. Then: ]

I have a daughter.

[ One child by blood; by any other metric, the number is a nightmare to unpack. He'd rather start touching hearts. John shifts his grip in Asriel's slightly, betraying restlessness under his steady tone. ]

I wasn't exactly around when she was a kid, so we've been trying to catch up. You could call it a work in progress. [ You could call it more unkind things than that, but he likes to give himself some credit. It's been a bad year. ] Everything I can do, and I've still never had the hang of that.