“I need a baby,” I tell him. He’s silent for a long while, tipping back the glass in his hand and downing the liquor inside it. “I’m not sure I heard ye correctly,” he says. “In fact, I’m sure I didn’t.” “For practice,” I explain. Now he’s looking at me like I’ve gone mad as well. “Don’t tell me you couldn’t do with some too,” I argue. “When’s the last time you were even around a wee baby?” He shrugs. “I haven’t a clue, Fitz.” “Aye.” I nod. “So find us a baby.”
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