Dutch stared at you for a few moments after you'd broken the news to him, the cigar wavering from it's spot between his fingers. You could hear the gang outside of his tent, bantering as usual.

“You're pregnant,” your lover muttered in repeat of your words, gaze flickering from your eyes to your stomach — one if your hands rested on it. His dark stare returned to meeting your own.

“How far along?” Dutch's voice very slight trembled, a rare thing to witness from the typically confident individual. Subtly — you hardly noticed it yourself if not for the sound it made — he snuffed out his cigar.