Chase just laughed at that, ruffling up her hair before petting it like she's the puppy in the room and not Atalanta. "Oh, poor you," he teased. "With the capability to produce an heir without bribing some unsuspecting woman who will have to not meet the Doctor if I want her to stick around for nine and a half months."

He eased back until he was lying down on his back, peering up at the ceiling before glancing to the side and at the stairs that led to the downstairs half of their room. "Gwen, they're all what-ifs," he pointed out. "What if he says 'sure, by the New Year' or..." he drew out the word. "Or 'I can't imagine anyone else being the mother of my kids' or...hell, what if he just says yes?"

He gave her an almost-critical look. "Or are you afraid?" It was getting hard now to turn the psychiatrist-in-training off.