Micah sagged with relief the moment Darcy shut Emile up by forcing a steamed bun straight into his blabbering mouth. He exhaled slowly through his nose, like someone who had just narrowly avoided a car crash.
Then he lifted his head and glared at Emile with the intensity of a betrayed emperor.
Emile, completely unaware he was seconds from death, smiled innocently and kept chewing.
Across from them, Clyde wasn't reacting at all. At least, not the way Micah expected. He wasn't annoyed or jealous. He looked…Wrong.
His shoulders had slumped back against the chair. His eyes weren't focused on anyone, just distant, like he was staring through the room instead of at it. There was a faint crease between his brows, and his lips had lost some of their colour.
Micah noticed it a second too late.
Clyde blinked slowly. The overhead lights felt too bright. Voices sounded like they were coming through water.
