"They don't share a face."
"They literally have the same face, Angelo."
"Same features. Completely different faces." I wasn't sure when I'd started being able to articulate this distinction, but it was true. Harlow's expressions moved like weather, fast and bright and constantly shifting. Cassidy's face communicated through intensity, her default setting hovering between annoyed and murderous with occasional breaks for something softer that she'd sooner die than acknowledge. Vivienne composed her face the way she composed everything, each micro-expression vetted and approved before deployment. And Sabrina, the one who haunted my sleep and knew it, her face was a locked room that only opened from the inside and only for people she'd decided were worth the key.
Four faces. One bone structure. Worlds apart.
