The question is sudden and hits him hard, lancing him in a way he isn't sure he knows how to deal with. This isn't a conversation they've ever had to have and he knows he can't tell the truth. He can't. It means he has to buckle down, chin up, and face this thing that scares him for her sake. He tightens his embrace, reaching past to close the window before they both catch a cold, and bows his forehead lower. "Don't be silly," he murmurs. "Why wouldn't you give me children?"

"Even if they're not ours by blood, they'll still be ours." He ignores the panic, ignores the guilt, and dives into this strange fake, pretend, and mad world. "Unless you think I'm incapable of getting you pregnant?"