calmest before the storm

She spoke and he was surprised. Not at the words she said but at the way she said them. Calmly and without a decoration of curses, which she had spat at him several times the last time they met. His tail made a pass from side to side, then was still again. The curl on his lip subsided into an expressionless countenanace common to him. He did not know what to do with the answer that she was indeed pregnant (as was expected). He knew only another question: were they his? Did it matter? Was the fabric of his sharp and calculating mind breaking down with age, leaving rips for foolery to sink in? For that was what this was, to concern himself with anything but his survival.

"Will they tend you?" Like hers, his voice was calm, quiet. His lip twitched. He was certain he knew the answer: no. She tended them. He did not believe she got anything from them but a misguided satisfaction in her place at their feet.