In step behind him, fucking with his leather jacket until Alistair shrugs him off, Rook Van Doren. He radiates rebellion with a single match resting between his teeth, paired with a boyish grin. The whites of his eyes are stained red from weed. I’m sure his munchies are the reason they’re here this late. I wonder when he’ll quit, before or after he follows the men of his family by becoming a judge.
