[For a long time, he's quiet, almost as if he hadn't heard what she said. His shining eyes peer somewhat forlornly above them. He'd like to say he doesn't have any joys much less any joys to rival something like the birth of a child.

But that isn't entirely true.]

Seeing humans live, [he finally admits, voice soft. The joys aren't about him, yet they are joys for him all the same.] When children are playing without fear, when they grow up into adults who fall in love, who get married and have a family. When parents become grandparents.

And when they die after a long life, not alone but surrounded by friends and family who loved them.