A selfish thought that crept around his shoulders, soothed, nestled, warmed like the clouding of a scarf, maybe they understand why I was ignoring it now... his stormy eyes were bleak as the skies now, as he watched Paul toil over the ringing. Listening to the weather as if it confirmed a suspicion.
Foolish, wretched words those were to text. Indeed. Of this, his mother, good-mannered, even-tempered, poised, was well aware. However, in a situation where she knew her son would avoid confrontation of this variety for as long as he could reasonably manage (Vincent of course, usually not being the type to prevent any embrace of confrontation at all.), because of the heaviness of the information she had found, the horror she had uncovered by herself. The burden was hard to carry on an aging, aching back. She knew he would read the text... it was the only way.
She answered desperately, her tone dotted with sobs. "Xander?! Xander I'm so sorry to tell you this way! I knew you wouldn't pick up, dear!"
(had to do a small one before I was pushed out of the door!)