Not Samuel's footsteps exactly, just that particular shift in the atmosphere of a room when someone has entered it and decided to stay near the door rather than announce themselves. Max had spent enough years around Samuel to recognize that specific silence.
He looked up.
Samuel was standing in the wide doorway of the breakfast hall, still in yesterday's jacket, his tie loosened, the shadow of a sleepless night sitting clearly beneath his eyes. He was holding his phone loosely at his side. And he was not looking at Max.
He was looking at the three of them.
His expression was difficult to name precisely. Not quite a smile, something quieter and more private than that. The look of a man witnessing something he hadn't expected to feel moved by and finding, to his own mild surprise, that he was.
He stood there for a moment longer than he probably intended to.
Max let him. Then he reached for his coffee cup and said, without looking up, "Wow."
Samuel blinked.
