Namor's hugs are strong and firm, the hugs of a man who feels the need to hold on, lest she slip through his fingers again. He was trying so hard, Marrina knew, to make-up for lost time.
"A sister?" she asked, surprised, but not largely. She knew Namor had loved many women. Dorma, her mother, others. It was only logical to think that there were others. Even if, for a moment, it hurt to think she was a little less unique.
But the story Namor tells is a sad one, and Marrina can't help but feel for him. So much tragedy in his life. A loss of people again and again, love ones torn from him at every turn, and now, daughters he had never known or lost...
"I'm not angry," she assured him. "There's nothing for me to be angry about."
"I will," she said.
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