The first time he saw her she was sleeping.
So small, so fragile, she reminded him of renaissance paintings' angels.
He always made thoughts about death very often in his life. Was it because of his job? Possibly. But now that he looked at her, he forgot death.
He felt a small sting in his heart. This child could be his. Yet, she was not. Fatherhood was something that he let slip away. Every day, he found more wrinkles and more white hair in the mirror and suffered at the thought that no child would ever call him dad. Time is ruthless. At the age of forty-five, he already felt old.
He felt a little bit jealous of Arthur. He was so lucky to have an angel like this to call his own.
The girl opened her eyes. She stared at Walter with her blue eyes.
How strange. She looked at him as if she knew him. Yet, it was the first time they met.
He moved closer and leaned over her cradle. Gently, he touched her cheek with his hand.
She laughed and grabbed his finger.
It had been so long since he last felt emotion rushing inside him
"My name is Walter. Glad to meet you, Miss Hellsing. Good luck."