This time Dan does pause what he's doing, which is putting his glass back down after taking a drink. He swallows and focuses his gaze on some meaningless whorl on the wood in front of him.

"Was she a Gabby or an Ellie or neither?" He sighs and tries to get back into the groove of marking the wood for carving. "Mine was an Ellie. My daughter."

It's been easier to talk about her these days, but even so, talking about her mostly just means acknowledging she existed at all to other people. He wonders if it's the same way for Miguel, how they danced around this commonality.