[Offer. What a generous word that is. Letting Wanda ask her questions without cornering him or feeling like she's dragging things out of him forcibly. She nods, accepting this, though not quite meeting his gaze just yet. She gestures to some cushions she's placed on the floor for meditative purposes, as if to offer Billy a seat, while sitting on on her self, still fidgeting with the rock.]

I-- don't know if I have a million questions or just a handful. It seems like both. ...

[The pause stretches out a little as she tries to organize her words, as if she hasn't been having this conversation in her head every day since she found out.]

... You... and Tommy... are my children. For real. In your world. ... Whooo... I mean-- your father-- [Might as well get the most horrifyingly embarrassing one out of the way first.]