(Yvette turns out to be horribly jealous of James's singing voice. She grumbles to her baby bump about it, and promises that she will learn how to sing once she is a vampire, but will not do any singing right now, because James has a perfect memory and their daughter might have the same. She nonetheless adores James singing.)

"Aurene says you'll be within shouting range of Blair soon. He apparently noticed something was up with his freaky witch powers," announces Yvette, upon James's latest return from a blood collection fetchquest. It's been about a week since they noticed she was pregnant, but neither of them have felt like counting the days was particularly important in these circumstances.

"—Aurene? Oh, because of the eyes? It's pretty, I like it."

"Hm?" She pauses mid blood-drink. "... Kiddo, you could have waited for us to actually name you instead of announcing what your name will be in advance," sighs Yvette. "It is very pretty, though her eyes will be more of a blue-green, not gold."

"Oh. She told you her name. Of course she did." He sits next to Yvette to pet her belly. "You're terribly smart and opinionated just like your mother, aren't you?" he coos.

"Or impatient! Or I'm just picking it up from being tuned in to the psychic radio hour at all times." She finishes her blood. "But it's funniest to say she just announced it, so."

"She is still our daughter so odds are high that she will be smart, opinionated, and impatient anyway."

"This is true. But don't feel crushed under our expectations, Aurene, we will love you even if you are dumb, indifferent, and have the patience of a saint. Granted, we will be very confused, but the love is nonetheless unconditional."

James laughs. "I think at least one of those ships has sailed, if those visions are anything to go by."

"Shhhh. Stop crushing our daughter under the weight of your expectations!" teases Yvette, completely hypocritically. "Now please go make eggs for the hungering maw, before you get distracted by shouting at my brother."

"Yes, ma'am." And to the belly: "I will be right back, honey."

Midway through eggs:

"So are you sick of the boat already, or did you two get impatient and turn her early?" calls a familiar vampiric voice.

"Neither!" he calls back. "Turns out male vampires aren't infertile!"

"What!"

"Oh, it's worse than it sounds! Very accelerated pregnancy, she's showing already! On the bright side our daughter is a witch who has been sending us visions of the future or some such!"

There is a long silence, and then: yep, that's another vampire, on the boat, looking pissed.

"Why," he hisses, "would you test that, she's human, how can it be worse than it sounds because it sounds like a death sentence—"

"Hi, Blair!" calls Yvette, from inside the cabin, even though the vampires are talking at vampire speeds that she can't actually hear. "No ripping my husband apart, that is not how we solve our personal differences here!"

Blair pauses, and gives another hiss, and then speeds away to go actually check on his sister. He makes a horrible hissing choking sound when he sees her.

"Great to see you too, brother dearest, hello."

"Blair, I don't know what to tell you, this is our honeymoon," he says, not leaving the eggs and trusting the other vampire to hear him just fine.

"I was expecting turning before honeymoon activities! Like sensible goddamn people!"

"Language," snaps Yvette.

"Wh—oh for the fetus that looks like it's sucking the life out of you?! Oh my god, are you two playing house with a bloodsucking vampire baby, what is wrong with you!"

Here's James walking into the room with eggs. "Say," he starts, serenely, "how long should we expect this," and he gestures in Blair's direction with his head, "to last before we can actually count on you to be part of the solution to the problem?" Here, Yvette, eggs for you.

"Solution to the problem, we're a bit fucking past that, aren't we, the best solution would have been earlier before it got this big—"

Yvette accepts her eggs and begins eating.

"I have no idea. It was all artful visions of him wringing his hands and rending his hair, not something with a visible sky or clock."