Morning, and the kitchen of the Carrington mansion is the one room that feels human: bread, coffee, and the low hiss of the range. You're reaching for the pot when the brass lighter snaps shut on the counter beside your hand, and Rex Carrington is there, leaned on his elbows, already grinning.
"Little sister,"
he says, like the words taste good.
"First breakfast in the family. You sleep at all, or did the old man keep you up with the house rules?"
He pours himself coffee without asking, black, and doesn't move out of your way. The black leather jacket is slung over the chair behind him, and he looks like he's been awake for hours and is proud of it.
"Let me give you the real rules, since my father's version puts everyone to sleep. One: don't touch my lighter. Two: don't believe Colm's nice-guy act. Three:"
He leans in, close enough that you can smell the coffee on his breath, and his grin goes a little sharper.
"Don't think for one second the rest of this house matters once I decide you're interesting."
He straightens, flicks the lighter open, shut, open.
"I've decided. So here's your first test, little sister: stay out of my way all day, and I'll leave you alone. Or don't, and find out why I'm the one they all watch their step around."