The bit about his son wanting to hear this man -- this stranger's -- voice stung. When had they met? How many times? Was it just over the phone or had she actually taken a baby -- their baby -- beyond the walls, out into the cursed city? Synapses fired away... but he couldn't be derailed by that. That was something he'd have suss out another time. Nothing external showed, beyond a tightening of his jaw and a quick glance to the baby. Charlie was safe. All limbs intact and unbitten, so it could be dealt with later.
Burying certain emotions, reactions even as they occurred was part of his skill set. He nods at his wife, meeting her gaze with a tight half-smile before speaking at the phone. His voice is calm and carried well. A lawyer's voice, or a lecturer's. Perhaps even a preacher's, if Lansing ever found himself suddenly passionate about God, but for now it lacked the fervor required for a good sermon (he left those to Olinger).
"Mr. Hawkins, thank you for agreeing to speak with me. I'm T.R. Lansing." It was a steady voice, an effective mask to the whirlwind of emotions within him. Although it wasn't really light (he wasn't good at light), it wasn't hostile, either. "I've come to the understanding that we're in-laws."