The elevator doors slid shut with a soft mechanical sigh, sealing off the corridor and the woman standing in it. Adrian's mother let out a breath so faint it barely stirred the air between them and leaned her thin back against the cool metal wall. Even in her illness she was regal. Her scarf was tied neatly, her posture trained by decades into something close to elegance. But her hand trembled slightly where it rested on her abdomen, as if sheer determination could hold the sickness back another inch.
"You could have greeted her properly," she murmured. Her voice was calm, but the edge of disapproval was unmistakable.
Adrian's jaw tightened until a dull ache spread across the hinge. "It wasn't necessary."
His mother hummed. That quiet, unimpressed sound she had used on him since he was
