"I suspect my daughter would take to this place quite well," Xenophilius says, by way of answer to the question politely put back to him - and it's the only family he sees fit to identify. There's no point in not seeming a little sad about the separation, for all that it hasn't exactly sunk in yet, but it doesn't make pleasantries seem insincere, same goes with the mildly crooked smile he has as he adds; "She's just out of school, now, so I'm sure she'll get on fine regardless."

He leans down, then, to pick up the handful of weeds he's torn from the ground, shaking them off a little of loose dirt before moving to set them into the pile collected for disposal on the pathway. It's a practical thing to do, but also a good distraction from the topic he's stumbled into.

"I was given a photograph, though, when I came here, so that was kind."