[ Zevran leans enough to make such eye contact possible, hand still combing idly through his hair. ]

I've adopted you, have I not? Young Alistair Arainai.

[ He snorts a laugh, looking past Alistair to the dog. Seeing him with his face tipped up and all that warm sentiment in his eyes- it is and isn't the same as the last person, pleading with him for the impossible.

Wrong voice, wrong race, wrong eyes. No tears, for one. ]

I'll need you to stick around if I mean to have or adopt children, Alistair.