The depth of caring Archer has for her son may not be stated, but it is certainly tangible. She's always sort of scoffed at these ideas of mother's intuition, but she does think it's only natural that she's deeply in tune with anything relating to Charlie - and thus she would see signs of devotion much more subtle than Archer's. She surprises herself often by feeling deeply grateful for it - she has never taken quickly to new people, and by new she usually means anyone who has been in her life less than decades, but Archer just came along as easy as a stroll through the park, quiet and gradual but steady, and now there he is, adoring her infant son and she doesn't mind one single bit. She'd probably have named him godfather, if she believed in such things.
She's sprinkling water gradually onto the crumbly mixture of Crisco and flour while she mixes it, waiting for that magic moment when it hits just the right amount of moisture and becomes dough. When it happens, she gives a little hum of satisfaction, and starts to form it into a ball. But she's noticing Archer's expression at the same time, the way his attention seems to peak at the small tidbit she has dropped, and then the bit of concern that touches his perceptive gaze. Maybe it isn't just Charlie that she's attuned to; she's sure Archer has noticed some things though he doesn't exactly ask.
Pressing the heel of her hand into the dough, Adelaide does one more once-over of Archer's face - dear to her now, steady and loyal and honorable as a white knight. She trusts him with her son, so maybe she ought to trust him with a very small - but extremely integral - piece of herself. Omitting a couple of details, at least for now.
"Yeah," she starts, finding a rolling pin and flattening the dough she has made - though she leaves a small bit of it aside. "I never had too much trouble realizin' cops were just humans... but my brother did," she shrugs. When the dough is thinned enough and big enough she uses it to cover first one pie and then the other, smaller one. She glances over to Archer before going on, but she already knows he'll be paying the attention that the newness of the subject calls for, though unstated. "He raised me up, since he was small, and he wasn't... often on the right side of the law. But he was real, real good to me, always." There's a very long pause, but it's the sort of pause that hums with something coming. Adelaide picks up that extra dough, and starts doing something with it before she speaks again. "I found him, Arch. And it's... complicated. But he's alive."