Ah, Marguerite. Perhaps they would talk of Marguerite. Perhaps they would not. As it is, Aramis's face lights up as he comes closer to see his son. He gently pushes the blanket away from the boy's face and smiles at him. "Hello," he tells him head cocked, letting him catch one of his fingers in a tiny hand. Such love he feels in this moment as he looks between Anne and the baby.