Skyler's eyes did the thing eyes do when they encounter something the brain has not yet filed appropriate paperwork for.
They went wide.
Then wider.
Silas stood in the doorway of the penthouse holding Salvar, who was wrapped in bandages with a broken hand.
Salvar was being held?
In a princess carry?
By his dangerous neighbor?
At eight forty-five in the morning?
Salvar looked away because it was beyond embarrassing to look at Skyler right now.
The evidence of his feelings lived in his ears, which had gone a very specific shade of red.
His cheeks agreed with his ears.
Skyler opened the door wider because what else was he supposed to do?
On the sofa, Milo and Xavier sat in front of the television with a fruit bowl between them, existing in the comfortable parallel silence of children who had found their rhythm.
Some cartoon was doing something on screen that apparently required their full attention.
Xavier turned his head and noticed them first.
He looked at Salvar.
