For the umpteenth time, Roderick fixed his lopsided bowtie in the washroom mirror.

Oh, God. Magnus was dead. Magnus was really, really dead. He would be stiff and lifeless as a ruler. A sad bag of the flesh and blood Darius so enjoyed dragging across the lawn.

He glanced around for Darius with wide eyes, before turning back to his mirror monologue.

Oh, God. He was going to have to look at his brother, the same way he had to look at those post-mortems sprawled on the metal table in class. Did he need pincers? He started to turn around to fetch his autopsy kit.

Agh, no. Habit.

He took a seat next to Pearl (no pincers in hand), spacey as ever.

When the officer came by, Roderick answered rotely.

“It is no loss.”

Then, thoughts crossed his eyes.

“I mean, it is a tremendous loss.”

God. Don’t make him look at it.