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@kingdonmicrofic | july 23: milestone | 498/408 words | warnings: none | ao3

“This calls for a celebration!”

Frank quirks an eyebrow at Mel’s excitement. The patient they’ve just treated was relatively simple, a headache that just turned out to be nothing more than a first time migraine, but Mel is beaming like they’ve just saved someone from an inevitable death.

“Does it?” he asks, carefully, gently, and Mel just nods vigorously.

“That was our hundredth case together,” she explains. “That’s a nice milestone, isn’t it?”

Holy shit. Frank has so many questions. How does she know this? Has she been tracking their interactions? If she did, that should probably freak him out, but he finds that it doesn’t. It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, the notion that someone is actually paying attention to him and regarding him positively.

Most of all, how did they already reach a hundred cases? He’s only been back for a little over a week. He knows that it’s partially his fault for constantly seeking her out, but he didn’t think he was that bad.

At least Robby’s not here, because he would rip him a new one for every little step out of line. And he knows that he’s treading dangerous waters with the favouritism, but he can’t bring himself to care. Mel makes him feel like there might still be something good in his core, beneath all the bad things that have rotten him, and that’s something that he wants to savour.

Mel seems to take his shock for being weirded out, because slowly, her smile slips from her face, her lip curling down into a frown as she wrings her hands in front of her stomach. “Was that a weird thing to say? I don’t know, I just like working with you and I got excited, but maybe I was a bit too much, I’m–”

Frank blinks as he snaps out of his thoughts, quickly exclaiming, “No!”

Now it’s Mel’s turn to blink, and Frank quickly moves his hand to rest it on her shoulder, before thinking better of it and letting it fall back to his side awkwardly.

“It’s not weird, it’s nice,” he assures her, shooting her a comforting smile, which grows as he watches the relief settle in her body and her own grin reappear. “I would love to celebrate with you.”

“Oh, wonderful!” Mel replies, now bouncing on her feet. “I’m trying to see if I like baking, so I can make us cupcakes and bring them into work later this week?”

Frank watches her incredulously for a second. How is she so perfect and how did he get so lucky to meet her? Then he nods, his cheeks starting to ache from grinning so widely. “That sounds great.”

“Great!” Mel repeats, before rushing off to the central desk. He watches her go, braid bouncing behind her, and shakes his head as his heart beats loudly in his chest.

He thinks he may be a little bit in love – and in a lot of trouble.

captainscurvyisajoke

@kingdonmicrofic

Day 23: milestone Word count: 499 (high school AU)

AO3

Frank was sulking.

The sight must be comically dramatic. A high school boy on prom night, hunched on the bleachers with his white shirt wrinkled and his tie next to him on the ground, collecting dirt.

melsglasses

kingdon as ophelia and hamlet doodle this afternoon

xskywalker21

rewatched a classic

tackycardiaa

Day 23: Milestone

@kingdonmicrofic - july 23 - wc: 283

How early is too early to tell your boyfriend you love him?

Mel glares at the search results. Apparently there is no set answer for this relationship milestone so she'll have to use social cues to figure it out. She shudders at the thought and keeps clicking around.

It's only been three hours since she and Frank made it official, and, according to the Internet's most commonly found opinion, that would classify as "too soon" or "desperate."

She rolls her shoulders. Okay, so maybe she won't tell him yet, even if the words have been spring-loaded behind her lips since July 5th, 2026, before she even had an inkling he could possibly like her back.

Don't tell him before you kiss him, advises a reddit user.

That one in particular seems unfair. Kissing Frank wouldn't change how she felt about him, except possibly make her love him even more, so why would she wait? And—what if he never kisses her, and then she never gets to tell him?

Her panic spikes, and she spins around in her chair to her new boyfriend snoring on the couch.

"Frank!" she shouts. "I love you!"

"Shit!" he jumps awake, hand on his chest. "What?! What's going on?!"

"I love you," she repeats, quieter and sort of embarrassed. She could have at least waited until he was conscious.

It takes a moment for his chest to relax, and then she knows the reddit user is wrong because the goofy smile on Frank's face, and the dazed way he walks over to her, is absolutely worth every risk they'd warned about.

"I… love you, too," he says, and Mel giggles as he pulls her into his arms.

slowburnlover

Thinking about Mel and Langdon sitting side to side charting when Frank notices Mel's shoelaces coming undone and casually putting her foot on his lap to tie them back, then giving a tiny loving tap on her heel afterwards so she knows to bring her leg back down. No eye contact. No communication. Seamless interaction like they've done this hundreds of times before.

tackycardiaa

Day 24: Premiere

@kingdonmicrofic - july 24 - wc: 432 - cw: implied future sexual content

-

"This is it! Oh my gosh! Look, look! Ugh, you're not looking!"

And yes, Langdon should look at the television in front of him, but Mel's hands forcibly twisting his chin towards the screen is just a bit—okay, a lot—more interesting. Her fingers have become a lot more familiar with his body lately, whether she realizes what she’s doing to him or not. Yesterday he swore her pinky tapped his during rounds, and he’d felt the lingering warmth of it the rest of the day.

Then, earlier this morning, a reporter had interviewed her outside the hospital doors about the nursing shortage. A giddy smile had been plastered across her face ever since, and whenever their paths crossed, she found a chance to tell him about it, repeating the same details, but he didn't mind. For one, she was so cute when she went all starry-eyed, but she also grabbed his arm as she did it.

He finally got so worked up over it that his mouth got ahead of his brain and asked if she wanted someone to watch her “big premiere” with. And, God, her delighted laugh filled him with something embarrassingly arousing.

He hasn't been able to stop staring at her since she'd let him into her apartment. She's in danger of being kissed if she doesn't drop her hands soon—especially now that she seems to be using his jaw as part of a stim, running her fingers over his stubble as her gaze remains fixed on the screen. It feels very good.

"Oh my gosh! That's me!" she squeals as the segment begins, squeezing his face, and Langdon restrains himself because she deserves to watch what she's been waiting to watch all day without interruption.

His eyes flick between the Mel on screen and the Mel still stroking his jaw. The TV version recites exactly what Mel had told him she'd said—maybe, he's not really paying attention—and though it's only a ten second clip, it feels like she's been doing this to him forever.

When it concludes, she finally looks at him, and he smirks as she realizes her hand placement.

"Oh, um—I—I'm sorry."

"Don't be, superstar," he says, and she blushes so hard, so fucking adorably, that his hands cover hers, keeping her there.

She swallows, and then she rubs his face one more time while holding eye contact.

“You can touch other parts of me,” he whispers, voice cracking, “If it helps.”

Her fingers slide to his neck, and then to his chest.

They go even lower a little later.

ironcharliee

Prompt: Premiere @kingdonmicrofic | 500 words | Rated G | 24/31 | Notting Hill AU (this takes place after to wish, to hope, to expect, my Notting Hill AU, no need to read it beforehand, but spoilers of the Notting Hill AU!) |

“I just didn’t think it would hurt so much.”

Mel sets her pint of ice cream on the counter. “Wait, it hurt you?” She knows why it hurt her—watching the premiere of Sense and Sensibility had brought back the melancholy ache she lived with the entirety of filming. But why would it hurt Frank? She was the one whose heartbreak and pining for him is now immortalized on film.

“The movie is stunning,” he says, taking a big bite of ice cream, “you should win every award that exists, but it was not particularly fun for me.”

“What are you talking about?” Mel laughs. “I thought you loved it?”

“I did, don’t get me wrong,” he assures her, setting down his ice cream and putting both pints in the freezer before loosening his tie and making his way across the kitchen to her, “but I also may never be able to watch it again.”

“Baby, what—”

“Okay, that’s an exaggeration,” he laughs, standing in between her legs and clutching her hips.

Mel lets her hands rest on his chest. His heart beats steadily underneath her fingers—she’s used to the rhythm by now, but she still marvels at it from time to time, still marvels at the fact that she gets to wake up every morning to Frank.

“I just kept thinking about how real this was for you,” he says. “You should be so proud, you are…effervescent in this film.” He puts two hands on her face and looks deeply into her eyes, saying, “It was just difficult to watch you in pain. It felt like I was the one making you hurt.”

“You weren’t,” she says, leaning into his palm. “You didn’t. And anyways, we’re here now.”

She tilts her face up, begging for a kiss, and Frank obliges her, cupping her jaw as he kisses her softly. When he pulls away, he’s got this look on his face he gets sometimes—whenever she asks he always says he’s so in love with her that he can’t breathe.

“Breathe,” she jokes, pressing on his heart lightly.

“Always good advice,” he says lightly, taking a step back from her and kneeling. “Marry me.”

Mel laughs. “Frank, we already did this.”

“Marry me.”

“Yes,” she agrees. It’s as easy as it was on the day he first asked, months ago, in the garden where they had their first date.

“I want you forever,” he promises, standing and kissing her palm. “Endlessly. Indefinitely. Take every synonym for forever and add it all together, and that’s still only half as long as I want you.”

Mel frowns, tears suddenly threatening to spill over onto her cheeks. She leans up to kiss him, his mouth soft against hers as she marvels at what a revelation it is to love and be loved by him. She breaks apart, letting her hands roam over his beautiful face, and wonders if you can still elope to Gretna Green.

“Then forever is what we’ll have.”

kmsk8r

@kingdonmicrofic day 23: milestone | 408/408 | rating: g (cw: discussion of grief + past loss of a parent)

Her cheeks are wet. Mel knows this before she even makes it to the staircase, before she makes it to the window she’s claimed as her spot, where no one bothers her.

Well, almost no one.

She’s got at least ten minutes before Frank follows her up — he was with a patient, but she knows he’ll be by her side as soon as he can. Probably tearing through the department after Dana clues him in, too.

Curled up in her hideaway she sits, cheek against her knee, watching the world, hazy through lingering tears. Her breathing’s back under control, and the crying has stopped, but her nose is still stuffy and she sniffles occasionally.

The stupidest thing is they saved the dad; they hadn’t even lost a patient and yet—

It’s not stupid to have emotions. It’s human — it’s why she’s a good doctor. She should feel, but everything just feels more raw than usual.

Fuck.

She sniffles again, pulling her feet closer to her body, trying to make herself as small as possible.

There’s a warmth in the air that wasn’t there before and Mel knows that Frank is leaning against the wall next to her, quiet and waiting for whatever she needs.

“It’s been 16 years this month and well… it’s a stupid milestone, I know, but,” she exhales shakily. “It’s been longer without him than with him. And—and one day I’ll be older than he ever was and it just… not fair.”

Another sob shakes her frame and a comforting palm gently settles on her back. Mel twists her head, letting her other cheek rest on her knee as she looks at him.

“No, it’s not stupid,” he offers, along with an outstretched hand. Their fingers lace together effortlessly, and Mel squeezes in thanks. “Not if it means something to you. There’s no good amount of time with grief. There’s nothing wrong with feeling worse on some days.”

“We get so many car crashes, Frank,” she says.

“I know.”

“Sometimes all of it is hard,” she almost whispers. He knows what she means. Shouldering it alone, being strong for Becca, keeping her parents close to her amidst everything they see. Frank’s jaw sets, his eyes growing sadder, and he slides next to her in the windowsill, still clasping her hand. “I wish…”

That’s the final straw it seems as Frank envelopes her in his arms, hugging her close as he kisses her hair. “I know.”

thelightreflects

splintered back in winter

day twenty-three: milestone, 499 words @kingdonmicrofic

When he’s done with handoff, he looks around for Mel, wanting to catch her before she leaves, but she’s not in the ER, so he goes to the lockers and waits, and waits, and waits.

It’s a little disappointing, the realization that she’s already gone, because he thought she knew what today was.

Frank puts his coat on, grabs his bag and walks through the ER, going out to the ambulance bay just in case, holding out hope.

And there she is, bundled in her jacket, holding something to her chest and talking to herself, snow falling.

His heart beats faster at the sight of her, and he says, “You’ll catch your death out here, Dr. King.”

She startles but doesn’t relax when she notices him, shoulders tense as she hands him something.

It’s a card with a wax seal and pressed flowers — he barely hears I picked those in July when I knew you weren't leaving again over the ringing in his ears — that he holds with shaky hands.

There’s a handwritten note, and he can’t make out the words, eyes welling with tears.

“I didn’t know if you wanted everyone to know, so I thought I’d do this out here, and then I forgot to tell you, but you found me,” she says, cheeks red and pressing against the frame of her glasses as she smiles.

They’re both quiet for a moment, then she apologizes for keeping him when he has to go be with his family.

“I don’t have to go,” he says in a rush. “Abby took the kids to her parents, so I’m alone tonight.”

At her look, he says, “We’re separated.”

“But you —”

“I know,” he says, glancing down at his ring. “I still live in our house, but we’re not together.”

She doesn’t say anything, and he rambles about Abby threatening divorce when he relapsed last December, but not leaving when he got back from rehab in February, then asking him to stay in the spare room a week later.

“I’m expecting to get served with divorce papers now that I’ve hit one year, though.”

“You don’t deserve that.”

He tells her that’s sweet but not true, and she says, “Well, I’m proud of you.”

“Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?”

It bursts out of him, and he swallows, heartbeat thundering in his chest as her eyes widen, then says, “We can go to a restaurant you like, or I can cook for us at my house.”

Her silence is answer enough, and he takes a step back, tries to smile even though he feels like he might throw up from the embarrassment.

“Sorry, I —”

“No,” she shouts, then bites her lip. “Don’t be sorry, don’t take it back. I’d love to have dinner with you.”

Neither of them notices the blizzard warning on their phones, and that’s how they end up snowed in at his house for three days, celebrating him and the new year.

stickwithme1

@kingdonmicrofic day 24: premiere. 260/179. cw: implied infidelity, blacking out after drinking.

the sun in his eyes was his only indication he'd fallen asleep.

squinting at the brightness of the hotel room, he sees the curtains wide open and the sunlight they let in reflecting off the white duvet and directly into his eyes.

frank couldn't remember coming back here.

last night, the cast and crew had went to get drinks to celebrate the end of filming. abby had left early, pissed off, shouting at him on the street saying he'd embarrassed her, he'd shouted back that he was done with her petty jealousy and hadn't gone after her. instead he'd went back to the bar with everyone and kept drinking.

then he woke up here.

as he's gaining back his eyesight he hears shuffling to the side of the bed, to which he sees the back of a woman as she stands on one foot, placing her heels back on, before combing her fingers through her blonde hair and turning toward him, slightly surprised.

it was mel. his co-star. the reason abby had freaked out last night.

"what do you think it looks like when your boyfriend doesn't say a word to you because he's drooling over little miss nepo-hire all night!"

"oh. you're awake." mel says, her morning voice gravelly and still sleep-addled.

before he can even say anything, she leans over him and kisses him firmly pressing him back down on the bed, waking every part of his body up as her hands rake his bare chest.

"i'll see you at the premiere." she whispers, and then walks away.

fellowshipincynicism

july 4th 2026, 9am

reciprocityfic

@kingdonmicrofic @kingdonmacrofic day twenty-four: premiere | 909/179 | rating: t

“Abby, I still don’t understand what the point of this is.”

He’s realizing more and more that most of the time, he doesn’t understand the point of Abby’s schemes and ideas.

She just rolls her eyes at him.

“I’ve explained this a million times, Langdon. We’ve broken up and gotten back together, like, three times already. We need to add some spice to the storyline this time. It’s the drama of it all.”

Ah, there it is. If there’s one thing he knows Abby loves, it’s drama, both onscreen and off. It’s probably why she became an actress in the first place.

“Come on, babe,” Abby says with a pout, when she sees the hesitancy in his expression. “We’re the Hollywood romance of our generation. We can’t be boring. You breaking up with your new little ingenue girlfriend to get back together with me because we just can’t stay away from each other will be headline news. It’s romantic. People will eat that shit up.”

He exhales. Abby takes a step closer to him, adjusts the collar of his shirt.

“Okay, but I don’t really like the idea of taking advantage of someone trying to break into the business for – “

“We’re not taking advantage of her,” Abby insists, interrupting him with a scoff. “I had a long conversation with her, explained all of the details. She’s happy to do it. Plus, she’ll be compensated financially, and I promised to talk her up whenever I can once this all is over.”

“Fine,” he relents. “Whatever. I just…maybe you could’ve had us meet before I’m expected to walk the red carpet of a Nolan film premiere with her in less than two hours? Especially since we’re supposed to already be dating?”

“It’ll be fine,” Abby tells him, with another eye roll. “You’re an actor. Put those Yale Drama School skills to good use.”

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door to their room.

“Hey guys!” Abby’s personal assistant says from the other side. “I have a Melissa King here for you, Abby.”

“Perfect,” Abby murmurs, and then shouts back. “Thank you, Lainey! Send her up.”

“Where did you even find this girl?” he mutters, fixing his hair one final time in the mirror before following Abby to the threshold of the room.

“I told you this already. She works at the Starbucks on the Warner Brothers lot. This is a great opportunity for her, so don’t feel guilty. Like I said, she’s happy to do it.”

Suddenly, they hear footsteps starting down the hall. Abby turns on her heel.

“Mellie, there you are!”

He looks up to find a woman in a simple but beautiful blue floor length dress walking toward them. Her long blonde hair is gathered to one side and cascades over her shoulder in soft waves.

The sight kind of knocks the breath from him. She…

“Sweetie, you look gorgeous!” Abby gushes, taking the words right out of his mouth. He can’t take his eyes off her. “I knew Seb would know just what outfit to put you in.”

The two women in front of him hug, and Melissa turns her soft, pink lips up into the loveliest smile he’s ever seen.

“Thanks!” she says, in a low, gentle voice that sends a shiver up his spine. Fuck. “This is definitely the most expensive thing I’ve ever worn.”

Abby laughs.

“Well, you look hot as fuck. Come here, come here!”

Abby grabs her wrist and pulls her closer to him. Melissa looks up at him from under dark eyelashes, her eyes wide and nervous but undoubtedly curious.

“Mellie, meet Frank Langdon, your new boyfriend,” Abby announces dramatically.

He can feel himself flush. He sticks his hand out to shake Melissa’s, but Abby knocks his arm down, and shoves them closer to each other.

“None of that,” she scolds. “You’re dating, remember? The least you can do is give her a hug, Frankie.”

Melissa smiles shyly. He quirks the corner of his mouth up, and then holds his arms open. She walks into his embrace, and as soon as she wraps her arms around him, he knows this is going to be a problem for him. Her hair is soft and she smells like rosewater and several moles dot her pale skin like stars and there are flecks of green and gold in her brown eyes, and oh fuck, this is going to be a problem for him.

“It’s an honor to finally meet you, Mr. Langdon,” she murmurs close to his ear.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Call me Frank,” he insists gently. “And the pleasure is mine, Melissa.”

“Call me Mel. Everyone does.”

“Mel,” he whispers, his hands settling on her waist, and she relaxes into him, just the tiniest bit.

“God, you two are already good at this,” Abby remarks, absolutely oblivious to the churning in his gut, the electricity shooting along his spine. “Now, come on. We have a few minutes until you have to leave, so let’s get to know each other a bit.”

Abby is off, then, starting down the stairs quickly. Reluctantly, they disentangle themselves, but he holds out his hand before she can go far.

“Ready, girlfriend?” he asks playfully, and he can see her blush, even beneath her makeup.

“Ready, boyfriend,” she confirms quietly, and her hand is just the tiniest bit shaky as she places her palm against his.

He intertwines their fingers, and they start toward the stairs.

avalonjoan

day 23: milestone

@kingdonmicrofic 208 words, no warnings, ao3

Langdon's sponsor doesn't believe in the "no major life changes until you're a year into recovery" mentality. "Getting sober is already a big life change," she says over their weekly coffee. "Sometimes we have to make other big changes to stay there. I left my husband. My sponsor moved to a different city. A girl I worked with left medicine entirely, started working at a library."

This information is tempting, to say the least. Things with Abby are hanging by a thread—the thread being Penny and Tanner. They love him, maybe even more since he returned from his "work trip"—saying that he was on vacation would have made them upset for not being invited, and saying he was sick and needed to go away to get better would have invited too many questions. But Abby…things hadn't been perfect before, and Langdon being gone for six weeks and unemployed for the foreseeable future, plus disappearing multiple times a week for meetings and drug tests at a moment's notice hadn't helped.

So when he's back at work, six months sober to the day, and Mel King runs up to him with more excitement than everyone else combined, he thinks that maybe another big change is in order.

meltingformelking

Day 21, Lounge

@kingdonmicrofic @kingdonmacrofic | 684 words | rated G | cw: implied infidelity i guess :’)

Even with only five years under her belt, most people considered it a stroke of good luck to have a conversation with Penny Langdon. She was just so cute, and such a crack-up. She was very sweet of heart and soul, of course, but Abby had always sworn, from those first days when baby Penny had finally begun lisping singular words into proper sentences, that she’d inherited a little something extra from Frank. And that was, obviously, her predisposition for occasionally dropping a sharp barb of harsh truth into otherwise quite normal chitchats.

Even Garcia liked to joke that Pen was essentially a foot-in-mouth prodigy. Which meant a lot, coming from her. It wasn’t always an embarrassing personal remark, though. Thank God. Like recently, when the World Cup was eating up media attention everywhere, and was being broadcast religiously into the Langdon living room most nights, she’d sighed, “Do we have to watch this?” Abby insisted yes. It only happens every four years, after all. “I can see why,” poor Pen despaired.

But the zest of life, the really good stuff, to small Penny was her sparkly jelly sandals, squishy toy blind bags, the days Tanner had to go to school but she didn't, swim lessons, and going to Costco with dad on Saturday mornings. For the examples, she said. She meant to say samples, of course, but examples was just too narrow a margin of error to amend, and she was almost (nearly! so close!) correct anyway, so who really cared actually. Another time, Little P had overheard Auntie G refer to the liquor store in a whispery tone, and she mistook that for licorice store, and now persisted in getting very ruffled about the great mystery of what all must be going on at the licorice store; usually feeling strongly she’s probably being duped out of something delicious. She likes licorice a lot. The black kind especially. (Weirdo Frank would say, in a fond tone. He also loved black licorice.)

“P, go have a seat on that lounger right there, okay? Take off your shoes too, please. I want to get some sunscreen on your shoulders, and then we can have a contest to see who can make the biggest splash when we jump in.”

“This is a lounge-er-eh?” asked Penny, sitting obediently where she'd been instructed to, her face scrunched curiously up towards her mother.

“Eh?” grinned Abby, setting down her giant tote full of towels and goggles, and thinking of SPFs. “Are you being Canadian again? These are all loungers,” assured Abby, gesturing to the whole row of them surrounding the pool’s edge.

The Langdon family was indulging in a long weekend in Scottsdale. Abby’s parents had retired there, and now lived in this super swank gated community, which came with cost-effective (free, which is appealing when you’re still recovering from ten months of no income, from two years ago) amenities like the sixth largest golf course in the state, and a sparsely populated pool.

“Is it a new lounger-eh?”

“I don’t think so,” said Abby, peering over her sunglasses at her funny little girl. “Looks kind of sun-bleached to me. Why do you ask, PenHen?”

“Cos maybe if it was new, dad could send a picture to Doc’er Mel,” she explained comfortably, knees bouncing as she peeled a sandal off her left foot.

Abby groaned slightly. She could. Frank wasn’t here with Tanner yet, so she could be openly dismayed in peace. Mel King was a bit of a sour subject, you see. She couldn’t explain why, really. Just that Doctor King had come along one day, with her common face and uncommon hold on her husband. “Oh, yeah? Why would dad want to send a picture of a new lounger to Doctor Mel?”

“It’d be poe-lite,” said Pen decidedly, eyeing the edge of the pool for any floaties. “She’s sending him some, I think. Before we got here, dad was on the phone with Mel and said to please send him heaps of pictures of her in her new lounger-eh. He said it’d help get him through the weekend.”

blanq

tumblr glitched and now there’s just a guy in the void

daughter-of-prospero

Wile E. Coyote, two milliseconds before he lights a match only to reveal he's surrounded by flammable traps he himself has set and the whole website explodes

holywaterhangover

@kingdonmicrofic day 21 -> lounge (462/462) implied sexual content, established relationship

...

Mel is very cognizant of just how much space Frank takes up.

It’s impossible not to notice how his broad frame now shrinks in a trauma room. Before, he’d use his stature to his advantage and shoulder in, to make space when others wouldn’t allow for it, but these days he’s resorted to squeezing in and being less of an inconvenience.

The thing is, Mel’s certain he isn’t aware that she’s aware. That she tracks his body language and memorizes it, stuffing it into a little box in the back of her brain labeled Langdon-isms. It’s relatively full.

Mel has also observed what she deems the switch. As soon as Frank’s free from PTMC’s vice grip, he sheds the diminutive, almost meek facade, transforming into an entirely different person. It’s surely a sight to behold; how his eyes grow a little darker and the furrow between his brows deepens.

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