Blackfeather Woods It's not over until we're dead and the birds are eating our eyes, eh?

Silent yet attentive, he’d followed her every movement with his gaze. He’d not seen the shift of her stomach, having been focused on her facial region, but the wince had been caught with ease. Concerned, he’d moved towards her, only to have been brought to a stop by her greeting no more than a moment later. “Hello,” the man had returned, taking another step forward as he’d spoken. It was far from his first time being around a pregnant female, but he’d still executed caution, not wanting to do anything that might set her off. So, instead of questioning her about how she was feeling, he’d asked, “Are you excited?” To be a mother, of course. It seemed like a silly question, for what reason might she have to not be interested in her own children? Yet, even after realizing that, he’d rolled with it.