Pax sits in the leather chair by the window, six feet from the bed, watching me. His face is still a little bruised from his run-in with Jonah. He’s wearing a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His jeans are black, as always. His feet are bare. Dressed in shadows, his head resting on the back of the chair, his expression so very serious, he looks like…he looks perfectly like himself.
