Tristan was being overdramatic. But, if ever there were a situation that called for a little melodrama, surely this was it! How often did it happen that you were there, minding your own business, when a cottontail hopped up and told you your life was irrevocably changed? His first reaction, of course, was poor dumbfoundedness. He didn't deny having spent the evening with many a find mousemaid, but it had never occurred to him that it could have possibly resulted in children. Children were something you had after careful deliberation when your life was very boring. Not something you had when you were in the middle of making a name for yourself, when your own house was hardly fully-built.
Oh, trees! The house. He had almost forgotten about it. Now they'd need an extra room. Maybe two. Would they mind sharing a bedroom? His sisters had never minded, but he didn't know these little girls at all and that was the worst part of it how could he have kids he didn't even know.
"Ah," he started, then looked desperately for assistance from Archibald, who stared blankly back at him, also clearly at a loss for words. He stared after the long-retreated shape of Zephra. Then he looked back down at the little girls. They were so young. "Well, um, hello," he said, after what seemed like forever. He was still swooning a little on his footpaws. For the first time in his life, Tristan had no idea whatsoever what to say.
"I suppose you'll be staying with me, then, for awhile," he said, all the while feeling ridiculous even as he spoke. "I'm, um. Tristan. You can call me that. Or, um. Dad. Or daddy, or father. Whatever you're comfortable with." This was mortifying. What would his father say?!
...his father. Oh, oh no. No, no, no.
Tristan did some quick math in his head. He estimated the age of the girls, counted backward to their possible date of conception, realized what mouse he was with at the time, and then he really did have to grab on to the rough wooden wall of his circus to keep from falling over. Millie. Of course. She'd been killed? He never would have expected that, and he suddenly felt a terrible wave of nauseating guilt wash over him.
At one time, everyone in the neighborhood had expected him to grow up and marry his childhood sweetheart. He'd never really shared in that aspiration, but he didn't have the heart to tell her that to her face. He'd slipped away unannounced quite often and hoped that, in his absence, she'd forget all about him and move on. But he hadn't hoped that anything bad would happen to her. Oh, this was terrible.
"Ah, Boss?" Archibald shifted from paw to paw, realizing that his usually-confident boss seemed to have lost all capacity for speech, and that two young and probably hungry mousemaids were staring up at them both very expectantly. Archie had siblings of his own, so he wasn't completely at a loss around children. He'd also been in the orphanage long enough to have an idea of how to entertain little ones. But still, this was dangerous ground, and especially dangerous because Tristan looked like he might faint at any moment. Nervously he looked back to the mouse, then took a deep breath. "I think what he's trying to say," he said, tentatively, "is that he's really happy to see you both. What are your names?"
Cordelia cast a sidelong glance at her sister, not at all sure what to make all of this. She looked longingly over her shoulder toward Zephra, then sighed, realizing that whatever happened, they were stuck here now. "Cordelia," she said, a little reluctantly, but didn't look at the hedgehog. Her eyes were trained on her "father", looking at him critically. "And I'm hungry." 
Beatrice ran a grimy paw under her nose, smearing snot and what appeared to be mud up the side of her face. Her dad -- man, it was weird to even think about that -- kind of seemed like a sissy and Beatrice wasn't impressed. She turned a critical glance towards the hedgehog that spoke to them before turning her gaze back to her father.
