Clyde stepped out of the noisy room where Noas was throwing a fit and gently closed the door behind him.
The shouting and chaos were cut off in an instant, sealed behind the thick metal door. The muffled echoes of Noas's furious voice still leaked through faintly, but they were distant now, like noise from another world.
For a brief moment, Clyde stood still in the corridor.
The pale blue of his eyes, which only minutes ago had held a calm, steady light, had dulled. The sharp clarity in them faded, replaced by something cold and heavy, as if a sandstorm had quietly approached. The composure he wore so naturally was no longer effortless.
His shoulders sank by a barely noticeable amount.
It was such a small movement that no one would have paid attention to it, yet it revealed more than any expression could. A slow breath slipped from his lips, long and controlled, as though he were trying to ease the pressure building in his chest.
