Nine years ago, he thought, was about when he had been 18. Heading to- oh. It clicked, in more of a drunken way of clicking. He remembered a one of those old fashioned photo booths. There had been a lot of pictures taken, even though her face was a blur. He couldn't remember much more than that.

And then he looked out glass door of the music room, to where Ollie and the little girl was sitting. Instinctively he wanted to say- she doesn't look like me. But was that really uncommon for a mixed race child?

"Yeah...I...think I remember that." He said, looking at the papers in her hand and then back at her. "Is....she...?"