The words cute, nor adorable, were anywhere to be found in Javik's dictionary.
They were not words he would have used to describe his daughter when he first held her in the crook of his arm, enveloped in a red blanket with a white lace at its edges. Her eyes were round and wide and vibrant-green as she sized him up, making little gurgling noises between the three tiny fingers she had stuffed in her mouth.
They were not words he would have used to describe her when Liara ropes him into sitting down and inducing the tiny asari to speak. He feels like an imbecile at first, saying the same words over and over again for hours while the baby becomes distracted with the sauce of her food, or the faux fur of her toy ("in my cycle, that would have been a real stuffed varren"). Until one day she stares at Javik intently, lips pursed in concentration, and says a word that only very roughly approximates the prothean term for father.
And yet it's enough to make him grin like a lunatic and yell for Liara, boasting that she spoke his native language first and not hers, as if it mattered.
"I'll get the next one," she laughs.
"Next one?" He asks.
Nor would Javik use them to the sight of his younger daughter's yellow eyes , wet and half-mooned when he scolds her about her irresponsible use of biotics. ("I do not like salarians either, but you cannot detonate biotic explosions on them. Yes, even if it is only to make them fall. No, it was not funny.") She whimpers and falls into a sob that eclipses her eyes with her hands, which brings his voice to a halt. Javik sighs and tells the girl that if she promises to behave, he will buy her human ice cream.
No, they were not there at all.