Alexei sauntered back into the living room with Sera's refilled mug.
He didn't touch her; he didn't have to. He put the cup down on the table with the care most men gave to knives. Sera's mouth curved. She sipped, hummed, and the room eased a notch you only felt if you were already listening for it.
Lachlan was.
He slouched back to the window. The white outside had turned gray and then white again; no lines, no edges, just pressure.
He leaned his forehead on cold glass and watched his breath fog and vanish. He didn't like waiting. Waiting felt like being told to sit in the corner until the adults finished talking. He wasn't a kid anymore.
He wasn't sure he was human anymore, either. Not when the itch was this loud and the dark lapped at the edges of his eyes every time somebody raised their voice.
He closed his eyes.
