"You what?" Daedalus rears his head back sharply, desperately hoping he meant only in a fever dream. Killed a baby? In dreams, that might mean any number of symbolic things, but he doesn't want to consider that now. Instead, he watches Franz settle in misery and wishes there were better means of helping him sleep.

"You do deserve it!" He protests, with his own indignant pout, about two seconds from grasping Franz by the wrists to forcibly drag his hands away from his eyes. The last thing he needed was an eye infection on top of things. "And isn't Kurt always itching to practice his French with you? He speaks it far better than me."