Soren's glare was stony, and eerie on a face that was made for smiling and laughing.
If nobody had picked on him than he wouldn't have even been out today and I swear if he dies I am never talking to any of them again.
It didn't occur to him that he wasn't even talking then, nor that he'd balled his hands into fists, lightly shocking his palms over and over and over again just to keep focused, to keep from spiraling into useless, pointless despair. Cass needed him coherent, so he would be. He might have to decide things, he might have to sign papers. He turned his head so he wouldn't have to look at Miniver or Teague, staring at the door that concealed his husband.