He said nothing.
His face said everything.
Duke, behind me, quietly opened his sketchbook.
---
Mitch came in last, and the way he came in — careful, measured, waiting until the room had settled — told me he'd been the one managing the perimeter comm while Silo was outside, the one tracking everything that needed tracking so everyone else could be fully here.
He looked at the baby.
His phone was in his pocket.
He didn't take it out.
He stood at the edge of the room for a long moment, and then his expression did the small thing — the specific small thing that was Mitch Avaro's entire range of visible emotion — and he sat down on the nearest chair and looked at the ceiling for a moment like he needed to confirm it was still there.
"Mitch," Ziko said, very quietly.
Mitch looked at hi
