The early morning light broke cold and grey over the estate, casting a muted sheen across the glass of the guest quarters.
Matt stood fixed before the tall window, staring out into the bleak dawn as the sun fought a losing battle against the heavy, oppressive cover of clouds. Behind him, the rhythmic, practiced sounds of packing filled the room. The quiet slide of zippers, the crisp folding of fabric. Yvonne moved with a calm, deliberate efficiency that belied the tension in her shoulders. Near the threshold, Sam leaned back against the doorframe, a worn satchel slung casually over one shoulder, his sharp eyes scanning the room, ever watchful, ever alert.
"You don't think it's a good idea right?" Matt asked softly, his gaze remaining anchored on the pale landscape outside.
Yvonne paused mid-motion, a folded tunic held loosely in her hands.
" What?... Leaving?"
"No... Confronting your father before we go."
A heavy silence settled over the room, brief but profound.
