Seth lay on the bed, turned on his side, one arm resting on the pillow. He wasn't asleep. He was staring at the ceiling.

You stood in front of the mirror. You slowly reached to your ears and took out the jewelry one by one. Your movements were quiet, deliberate. You looked at him through the mirror, not directly the way you look when you’re not sure what you’re going to hear. Seth’s gaze met yours in the mirror. He held it for a moment, then turned his head away.

“Einstein fears,” He finally said quietly, almost as if he were saying it to himself “that a fusion explosion might occur… if the atomic bomb is detonated.”

His voice was calm, but too controlled. He didn't raise it, he didn't overemphasize it. That was always his signature.