"Do you want to see him?"
Elias stared at the edge of the tray, at the way the jam on the toast had begun to bleed into the bread, like it too had been caught off guard by the intrusion. The velvet throw shifted slightly with the slow rise of his chest as he inhaled, then held it.
Victor was still sprawled into his chair with the dignity of sin, dressed in designer clothes. He didn't say anything. He was waiting for Elias to make his decision.
Elias set the coffee down with deliberate care. His fingers trembled only once, and even then, only slightly. He could've lied. Could've made a joke. But when he finally looked up, something in his face had cracked clean down the center.
"No. Why would I want to see a parent that disowned me?"
Adam, professional to the last breath in front of Victor, shifted his weight almost imperceptibly. There were things in this house that answered to silence more than sound.
