Honestly, I don't know. [ What was he scared of... ] It's not as if your uterus is a finite resource. ... That came out wrong, and I know it's not true, but you know what I mean.

[ He leans into her a little as he says this, humming and tilting his head to the other side. Why was he scared? He could make some lame jokes to brush past it? It could be better that way, rather than delve into his existential dread. Or maybe he could do that after a joke, and so he considers, ]

Maybe I'm afraid she'll lord over all of my babies.