Benn nursed his back with a pack of ice, watching the scene play out before him without much of an expression on his face. The flickering light of dusk hung behind the curtains, his old, worn chair shifting beneath him in the perfect support position.
He could practically smell it emitting from the small little screen in front of him. In fact, he sniffed at the air, his nostrils wrinkling in distaste.
Politician speak.
Grid reeked of it. He was better at it than most, but the old man could still smell it on his breath even across countless light years.
He didn't know how they planned to use such positive PR to target his grandson, but he knew that it was coming.
The old man looked down at his hand and sighed. He should be out there too. But all the people left on Earth were those far outside their prime and those too young to even drink.
They couldn't do anything but watch.
