Page 94 of The Mourning Throne
He was evolving. In real time. Who else got to say that?
God,this was fun.
“I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Morgan muttered. The ice cubes in his drink clinked together, and Lex finally glanced over.
“Why? No harm in it. He’s doingso good. I’m a proud papa.”
“Please never say that again.”
Lex grinned. “Too much?”
Morgan shuddered beside him. “Yes. Too much. I felt my soul attempt to leave my body.”
Laughing, Lex turned to face Morgan.
“Is that a no on kids,then?”
“Lex.”
“Oh!” Lex patted down his pockets. Front, then shifting to get to the back ones. He pulled his phone out a second later. “We never got my picture. I want my picture.”
“Pict—from the plane?” Morgan sat down the empty bourbon glass. “You’re still on about that?”
“It’s two seconds. Humor me, Morgan.”
Morgan sighed. The back of his head hit the booth, and Lex watched his eyes skate over the ceiling.
What the hell did he do when he looked up?
It was the one strange quirk of Morgan’s Lex had never managed to solve. The rest he knew by heart.
“Are you appreciating the architecture?” Lex asked after a minute.
“Shut up.”
Finally, Morgan’s head dropped. He picked up the glass, tilting it back and crunching on the ice.
“Just do it,” he said dryly.
Lex didn’t wait for Morgan to change his damn mind.
He crowded in as close as possible—arm around Morgan’s shoulders, the other angling the phone camerajust right—andclick.
Three more, in case one of them blinked.
Sitting back, he flipped through the pictures.
The first one was alright. The second one was a contender.
But the third? Morgan had lookedat him. For a split second. For the one frame. And there was something soft in Morgan’s expression. Something that Lex wouldn’t have caught otherwise.
Morgan’s eyes half-lidded, the tension forever in his jaw all but gone. He wasn’tsmiling,but it was better than that.
Lex zoomed in even farther, to try and catch exactlywhatit was. To dissect that look and store it somewhere in his memories. Somewhere that nothing else would ever touch.
That’s when he noticed Gabriel.
He panned the picture over, zooming in until the image pixelated but—sure enough. It was Gabriel Huntington. Sat at a table not ten feet behind him.
