The combination of Tolbert’s raptor-like glare, flushed red skin, and walrus mustache reminded Bowen of his father, who had been a neurosurgeon with the bedside manner of an IRS auditor.

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Her dark eyes faded to Mars' ashen red, hair grew brittle as autumn leaves blown far from home. Frantic thoughts boiled in Mother's stare, but a queen must remain her hushed mask no matter how dire her child's state.

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Next came a young woman with a buzz cut and the pale skin of someone who saw very little sunlight. She wore a wry smile—the smile of someone who knows things.

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