It was the way he carried himself. Imperious. Energetic. He looked like an older version of Pryce; dark-haired, handsome and unscarred. He halted suddenly when he saw Roper still arranging himself on the chair and glanced down at the globe, which had been replaced lopsidedly, as though it had been as sickened as Roper by their encounter. Tekoa looked at Roper through furrowed brows and straightened the globe. “You little bastard,”
