At this point in his life, his birthday was just any other day. Nearing forty surely meant he didn't need to celebrate anymore and if he'd had any idea what Dahlia had planned for the day, he would have encouraged her not to go overboard, or even bother. Just a nice little dinner, the two of them, something simple.

Definitely not what he'd come home to.

There was a lot to digest; the flowers were to be expected; the kitchen was a bit of a disaster; Dahlia was a bit of a disaster and he knew that look on her face by now. He set his jacket aside and quickly made his way into the kitchen, keeping a soft smile on his features, even though he was a little worried about her. "Thank you, Darling. Looks like you've been hard at work." Too much, always trying to do too much. It seemed to be in the Potts genes, as he was pretty sure he had heard this mentioned about some of her sisters too.

As she got caught on the stove and the milk spilled, Quin managed to keep it from getting too far, magically levitating it back to where it had sat upon the stove top. Quin was the king of making messes in the kitchen both intentionally and accidentally, he knew how to manage the chaos better than most.

"Everything smells wonderful, can I help?" He asked gently, even though he had started to take over, moving things around, off the stove, away from anything terribly messy. Quin liked to think he was getting better at reading her moods, but the pregnancy was sending them both for a loop and he was back to square one.