To say that he was a cold man certainly wouldn't be a lie. He'd been accused of being cold, certainly. Emotionless, heartless, robotic... but those accusations were thrown at him by people who didn't bother looking very closely. The few who knew him knew better. Far from emotionless, the depths at which he felt things was discomforting to him. He could compartmentalize, bottle and set things aside for later perusal. He'd always been capable of that. But that didn't mean he didn't feel, and every now and again something would happen that would demand immediate warmth. Like his son needing attention, or his wife kissing him after he'd laid out strategy.
He's surprised by this positive affirmation, and responds instantly, kissing her back with an unusual amount of heat, unaware that it was his fear of losing her was funneling itself into the passion of his response. The temptation is there once again to just lift her into his arms, but her question keeps him in heel. "Four people believe they do," he answers promptly, not needing to tally. That information is right at the forefront, easily gathered. A slight smirk touched his features. Just a hint of pride. "Since I was shown how to change them, I'm the only one whose knowledge is strictly up to date."
Of course, if she were to want them, there was no doubt that he'd give them to her. Text her every time they were changed, just in case, if that were what she required. She needn't even ask directly, just hint that she'd want them.
Perhaps she didn't know that, yet. Strange to think that she might not, but the escape bags... spoke of doubt. She'd justified them with doubt. So perhaps she really was unaware of the extent to which he'd go for her. Exactly what he was willing to do. Maybe some things did have to be said.
"When you dropped hints about moving South," he begins, cautiously, not wanting to completely tug away the veil, but needing her to know that he had noticed the prompting, the subtle manipulations she'd achieved back in Boston. Texas had been her suggestion, though she'd wrapped it cleverly in discussions about how Olinger's policies were in line with many of Rob's own suggestions (and how flattering had that been, to have her agreement... see her share his frustrations when faced with the fallacies of human error). She'd done a noble job of guiding him to a natural conclusion, so that he might think it was his own idea -- if he were someone less attentive. A Boston child, born and raised, Robert hadn't loved the idea of going South. To a place where the weather had already been harsh and inhospitable long before the plague had begun to spread. "I thought your goal was security. Safety. Everything I've done since our departure from the city has been to that end. Please don't doubt that."