"And what is within reason?" A smile, soft, struggling through the grief. "Have you come around the idea of a dozen?" He is teasing, again, gently: Burr's words are an intoxicant like to rival the finest wines, taken in with pleasing sips, settling inside him with comforting warmth.

Just then, Theodosia lets out a petite snore, her mouth slack and most certainly drooling by now. He cannot help the smile that blooms in response, and in fact must work to contain his laughter.