"Something wrong?" Sylvia asked quietly. Her hand was still resting on his shoulder, light and steady, and the firelight moved across both of them in slow warm pulses. "You've been making that face for a while now."
Lucas looked up at her for a moment. His eyes had that half-lowered quality that came from carrying something in your head for too long rather than from actual tiredness, though he looked that too. Then he turned back to the fire.
"It's nothing," he said. "Just something stuck in my head. About someone." A short pause. "It's getting annoying, honestly."
Sylvia's brows moved slightly.
She looked at the side of his face, at the tired set of his jaw, at the way he was staring into the flames like they owed him an answer.
'So something is bothering him and he's calling it nothing,' she thought. 'Which means it's been bothering him since the island and he's been carrying it by himself this whole time.'
