"No, I don't," he conceded. He had the brat, of course, watched over for Mohinder's sake, because he understood how much she meant to him, but she wasn't his. There weren't the same ties between him and Molly as there were between his geneticist and the girl. Nor he wasn't sure he wanted there to be that sort of attachment, even if it meant understanding, honestly--he doubted his potential parenting skills immensely.

"But if you want to call her, I'm not stopping you." He'd said his peace, and the sooner he got back to New York, the better.