He stepped to her again, laid his lips on her brow. But I want children with you, my lovely Eve. One day.One day being far, far in the future. Like, I don't know, say a decade when...Hold on. Children is plural.He eased back, grinned. Why, so it is--nothing slips by my canny cop.You really think if I ever actually let you plant something in me--they're like aliens in there, growing little hands and feet. She shuddered. Creepy. If I ever did that, popped a kid out--which I think is probably as pleasant a process as having your eyeballs pierced by burning, poisonous sticks, I'd say, 'Whoopee, let's do this again?' Have you recently suffered head trauma?Not to my knowledge.Could be coming. Any second.
~ J.d. Robb