The words had barely left his mouth when the door opened again without so much as a knock. Cedar and clean linen hit his nose a heartbeat before the voice.
"Too late," Trevor drawled from the threshold, one brow lifted. "Looks like you're already mid-episode."
Behind him, Alistair stepped inside, tall and unhurried, a travel mug in one hand. Benjamin swept in last, a streak of burgundy cashmere and gold chains, phone raised as if he were live-blogging the scene.
Trevor's gaze flicked over Mia and Lucius, one perched on the edge of a chair, the other standing stiffly by the window, then back to Lucas. "Should I ask, or is this one of those things where I don't want to know?"
Alistair leaned against the wall, deadpan. "We heard raised voices all the way down the hall. Thought we'd come supervise."
