Inheritance, genetics be damned, was pretty linear in the Durlin house, different turns though it took. Evan had gotten the poker face, along with the knack for guns, overprotective instincts, and the taste for blond(e) hair (Evan had just taken it in the 'straight' direction).
Ezra, like Savant, wore his easily-misunderstood heart on his sleeve, so it was hard to hide the flash of interest and optimisim that lit up his eyes at Thomas's comment about more starting.
"No problem. Sorry to go all neighborhood activist on you, too. A drink sometime'd be great."
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