"Oh no, she doesn't." He wouldn't say so even if it were otherwise. Babies cried. It was their only mode of communication. How could he be bothered by that? Almost as if on cue the pot stopped perking. Snagging the mug that he'd extracted from the cupboard before Robin had walked into the room, he stepped up to the pot. Pouring himself some of the longed for brew.
He all but groaned as he took that very first sip. Once that first sip worked through him, he was able to form more coherent thought and form more than a few words. "She's beautiful, by the way."