( she's done this before -- been the housewife, juggling motherhood with household responsibilities, pinning up her hair and frowning in mirrors at husbands who think it's a good idea to overwork themselves incessantly. she isn't sure whether telling him so would help or hinder; they've stepped with care around the absence of a corpse in their home, and not much discussed what it means. how much history she has, how many different lives she's lived before this one.

maybe they should, she thinks. maybe that's something that would help. )

She'll nap for a while, I can get a few things done while she's down, ( with a small, genuine smile; she's easily warmed by discussion of their daughter. ) We'll be just fine. Do you want me to pick anything up for you today? I was thinking of taking her out for a little while.

( after the edgy seclusion of her pregnancy, never venturing far from the nearest fortified position-- even if it's raining, the buggy has a PVC storm cover attachment, and driscoll will doze beneath it through her mum's daily jog. )