Tonks had done her very best to keep her life as routine and normal as possible. Wake up, have breakfast with her husband and adult kid, go to work, have lunch, work some more, scan journals for anyone who might need someone to talk to, run errands, go home, have dinner, and pretend everything was peachy keen until bedtime. Then, Remus, who was the only person who even remotely understood what they were going through, was her solace; the one time in her day she didn't have to pretend. Nights were simultaneously the best and worst parts of her day, and the hours leading up to them had begun to make her a bit anxious.
When she took a step back from it, it was all rather ridiculous. They were stuck in a village outside of time and space, where either one of them could disappear at any moment. Trying to start a family was one of the more insane things anyone could do here, but Tonks wanted this - she wanted this so desperately that her whole world had been thrown off its axis in pursuit of having that family together, of cementing their bond, their marriage, and not just a marriage she couldn't remember. Teddy was all sorts of brilliant and exactly the son she would've begged to have, but she didn't remember having him. She didn't remember carrying him, she didn't remember anything about being his mother, and that, more than anything, ate away at her incessantly. Another baby wouldn't fix it, but maybe it would help her feel like this was really their family, all three of them, and she wasn't an outsider lurking about without any memory of either Remus or Teddy in the real world. A silly reason to have a baby. Stupid, even. But it was more than that, too - this place was a giant red stop sign in many ways, and she wanted to live. She wouldn't get this life with Remus and Teddy back home, but here there were infinite possibilities they would never otherwise have. And like hell was she going to waste them. Their issues conceiving only threw a giant wrench into that, making her feel as if they were stuck and she was wasting every chance they had at happiness together, irrational as it was. But no matter how hard she tried to reason with herself, her hair remained mousy, and she still cried herself to sleep more nights than not.
For now, however, she'd made a very conscious effort of leaving that behind as she headed to the pub to have a few drinks with her cousin. Ever since Sirius' return, she'd worried about him, but he was a grown man - they were the same age now, and she couldn't very well try to mother him. This was the best she could do: a few drinks, some good conversation, and a chance to forget all the shite for a little while.
"Wotcher," she said, sitting down across from him and nodding her thanks for the drink. "Star Wars? Yeah, of course. Half-Muggle and grew up in the seventies and eighties, remember?" She flashed him a cheeky smile. "All right then, shoot. What burning questions can I answer for you?"