This was very much not the man who had gone to break the blades just weeks before.
Antony stared at his father, glad that the old man was distracted enough to not see the look on his son's face. Talking about love, and family, and being happy... this was not the Adrian Katoracov that Antony had grown up with. A part of him was as jealous as always, angry that he had been robbed of such an experience as a child.
But his own children would get to know this man, and a very different life.
"If I know Anca and Gavril, they won't want to take any time off," Antony managed eventually, a sort of misdirection from the fact that he was not sure what to say. Whatever he felt, whatever he wanted to say... his father may have been at that point in his life, but Antony was not. Not yet, anyway. The best he could do was... well, what he was about to say.
"They are welcome to the house in Greece, after the wedding. The weather won't exactly be tropical, but... it is something, and I imagine they could both use a vacation from everything. Will you tell them?"