"Plastic, got it, no more breaking anything," Much squeezed her hand tightly in his and hurried off.
As he made the tea he kept thinking about what Tuck has said about how he'd be great with kids of his own, and that just fueled the rising tide of panic. He couldn't. Or maybe he could but he didn't want to. Raise a kid in this secret and dangerous life, be scared for them at every turn and then watch them die? Or grow old and die? It was horrible, a horrible life to inflict on a person, to watch their parents stay young forever while they slowly grew, it'd be like time prying them all slowly apart over the next however many decades. It just felt cruel. A whole cruel undercurrent to a life.
He made two cups of tea, both in cups they'd have a harder tome breaking, and brought them through. "Bathroom tea?" he offered, with a weak excuse for a grin. "Do you think you can pee at all or do you want to sit on the couch and drink this first?"