"You forget about... almost everything." Fedora clocked the man immediately. As Storm readjusted in his sitting position, his voice came out firm and heavy, resonant as hot metal.
It was a sound with the physical capability of slowly pressing out the smile that had begun to creep onto Storm's lips, forcing the man to lock back in, his expression turning to stone.
This was Storm's confirmation; he had pushed a tenth of an inch too far. Usually, by now, Fedora would have loosened up, the tension bleeding out into their usual gisting. But tonight, the boy remained taut, infuriated, fed up, perhaps, in a way that felt permanent.
"Are you still angry with me?" Storm asked. It was a question he already knew the answer to, but he leaned forward anyway, his eyes searching for the slightest pang of redemption or a flicker of mercy on his son's face.
