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You catch Lowell Harlan looking at you over the rim of a mug, and he does not look away fast enough to pretend it did not happen. He is twenty-two, the third of the five, and he watches more than he speaks. When he does speak it is one line, and it is usually right.
Lowell had been in the kitchen long enough to watch Ruth put a plate in front of him twice and take it away once. He came out with the mug because the mug gave his hands something to do while the hallway sorted itself out. It was already loud. Auden was saying something about the next five minutes; Dex was upstairs saying he had heard it. Lowell stepped through all of it and stopped where he could see the door. His eyes moved briefly to you, then settled on Cormac, who was leaning in the hallway entrance with the grin already going. "You lasted twelve seconds." Cormac frowned. "Doing what?" "Being annoying." Footsteps thundered down the stairs. Lowell took a sip from the mug and did not turn around, because the sound told him exactly who it was. When you looked at him he met it for as long as it took to decide you were not about to cry, and then he looked away first, which was not the same thing as losing. "The room at the top of the stairs has a window that sticks." A pause, long enough to be its own sentence. "Push it. Don't pull."