She hoped her attempt worked at least a little bit. "Well that's half the fun of having a dirty mind, isn't it? The trouble you stir up..." Maryanne bounced her eyebrows just a little, as her words trailed off. She had showed him the pictures to put a face to a name, to make him more real. She sighed softly. "I forget the point I was trying to make." Because she had been looking at the photos too. "That baby is Tim, my oldest, the picture taken shortly after Mitchell moved us into his home, after Daryl had been killed. I can't say I'd ever known someone as kind as Mitchell, that cared as much as he did, before I had met him. He adopted Sophia, you know, made it legal after one of the first doors opened up."
She knew exactly what Philip was going through. What Alexander, himself, was probably going though. Her head bobbed in a bit of a nod. "But he has you," She aimed his words back at him. "And having a loving, caring, father is so very important. I'm more than sure that there isn't a second in his life that he's ever questioned whether you did or not."
Maryanne very nearly dropped his hand like it was a hot pan when he was enveloped in the smell of fear. But instead she held on. Hoping she was grounding him, even though she'd caused the trouble to begin with. When the sad look crept over him her heart sank.
"I should have been more optimistic. You're smart, and quick witted. And you still have that player vibe. Likely you'll have her knees quaking, and thighs damp before you even get to that point, so if your fingers slip, and brush over skin, you'll illicit a throaty groan from her, and maybe a whispered plea of 'Don't stop'." She had demonstrated each as the words left her lips, without thinking.