Night's Omen

A relieved, but still cautious grin tugged at Vin's mouth.  "Worse," he confided.  "I got my temper from my mother.  She drove my father out of the house more than once, throwing things and screaming, then breaking down and sobbing the next minute, and laughing hysterically over nothing five minutes after that.  He kept her well-supplied with chocolate ?clairs and peanut butter ripple ice cream, which helped a little."

Vin patted Capri gingerly on the arm.  "I think you're behaving perfectly normal, for someone with a bun in the oven."  He flashed her another grin, this one more genuine.  "Come on, maybe the Doc can give you something that'll keep you from killing people."

She reluctantly followed him out into the hall, though she did laugh at his remarks about his mother. "Morphene?" she asked brightly, knowing the answer would be a big N-O. She had a little bounce in her step, a testament to her mood swings enough.

When they arrived back in the doctor's quarters, she sat down in a chair somewhat more calm than she had been before. She looked from man to man, blinking, silent. She was simply daring someone to call her crazy at this point, because now it seemed like she had a really perfectly fabulous excuse.

And there was still the object of telling people.