Will grinned when Molly mentioned the corset, and while he had no desire to see her torture herself by wearing something like that, it did bring his mind to recalling the bra she'd been wearing the other day, how pretty it had been and how lovely her breasts had looked in it. He wondered idly if she was wearing something black today, to match her beautiful shirt, if it was lacy or sheer or silky. But he didn't focus on the thought for long, shifting to listen to what she was saying instead.

The way she talked about the Tellers's kids, about her own siblings who she'd cared for, it was easy to tell she liked children. And Will did too, or at least the idea of having one or two of them himself some day. Of course the older he got, the clearer he could see the things that plagued his mind, the more he worried about what he'd pass on to a biological son or daughter, if they'd be cursed with the same mental issues he had. It seemed like a dangerous gamble, putting a child at risk of inheriting something like that.

"Do you want kids?" he asked her, hoping she didn't think he was jumping the gun on anything, mostly just curious where she stood with the idea.