Dean supposed he should have put more of a qualifier on the discussion, but Don Juan could always end it if he wanted. "I heard through the grapevine," not surprising as the break room at the Ministry was as full of gossip as wealthy woman's parlor, especially given the Dempsey name. "That you've gotten notice of a daughter's existence?" After the initial surprise had worn off (which he'd kept his face admirably neutral in the office), Dean supposed he hadn't been shocked. Honestly he was still thrilled nobody had come to serve him with the same information. Still, it had sent him into an unexpected tail spin, which had been part of the reason he'd headed out for the fight tonight. His brain had been too keyed up to, spiraling in different directions, and he'd needed the distraction of the fight to get it out of his thoughts.

Mostly he wondered why Don Juan hadn't mentioned it himself. Beyond that, Dean had started to play the What If game and that had gotten him nowhere good either. They'd just come back together, was this going to throw them back off track? It was selfish he knew. If Don Juan really did have a daughter from his marriage, he ought to do something about it, but what would that, in turn, mean for them?

In trying to keep his features neutral, keeping the storm of bubbling emotions at bay, Dean turned to grab the bottle and add a little more whiskey to his glass.