By the time Azrael had gone through everything - there were so many pages - Duma had smoked the entire cigarette and snuffed the butt out on the window sill where it would now live in a glass bottle with others. His eyes met his brother's when the other man started speaking and he nodded slightly. He was welcome and yes, he understood.
He slid off the seat by his window and stretched his arms over his head. Then he went and sat on the coffee table, facing Azrael though avoiding the tea cups and tray. Then came a complicated series of signs: ring finger, temple, pointing to Azrael, hands together like wings. Did she know who he really was?