Dean looked between them and muttered, "And this is why I never stood a chance."
That, in hindsight, had been the gentlest part of the week.
Two days later, standing at the main university entrance in a coat tailored sharply enough to imply he had his life under control, Dean reflected that peace was a temporary illusion and family, unfortunately, had a habit of remaining involved long after departure.
Lucas and Trevor had left for Palatine the afternoon before yesterday, dignified and composed as ever, which in practice meant Lucas had kissed Dean's cheek, adjusted his collar, informed him to sleep like a sane person, and then handed Trevor a list of concerns that looked suspiciously like a threat formatted as care. Trevor, for his part, had embraced Dean once, brief and tight, and then calmly reminded him to send updates after any activity involving beasts, pheromonal exposure, training injuries, or 'other catastrophes disguised as character development.'
