"Hey Daphne, this is my father John," Maverick introduced a man in his early sixties. He looked exactly like Maverick in his later years.
John approached him with an affable gesture. "A pleasure to finally meet the woman my son couldn't stop raving about."
Daphne shook his slim, anile hands. "The pleasure is mine, Sir Powell."
"I do hope you can forgive my son for what happened, dear." The old man patted Maverick's back. "He can be a bit of a wild stag sometimes, but I assure you, he's like a sweet pumpkin to his mom," John teased his son, as though he was being sarcastic, yet proud to have Maverick as his child.
"Father!" Maverick hissed, annoyed at his father's impertinence.
Daphne looked up to meet Maverick's gaze. "It's fine, Maverick, and I think it's sweet of you to
