Chapter 13: Fishing
Cameras flashed as Edward and his two sons navigated through a horde of reporters, each trying to get a piece of their attention.
Tyson squinted against the bright lights, his discomfort growing with every click. He intentionally avoided exposure, turning his face just enough to evade the relentless cameras.
"Damn, I hate these flashes," Tyson muttered under his breath, slumping into his allocated seat in the chopper. His fingers ran through his black hair.
Alex, on the other hand, was as composed as ever. He sat back, his gaze calm, rubbing his calf muscle nonchalantly.
Tyson caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and raised an eyebrow.
"You okay?" Tyson asked,
Alex's face remained stoic, but his hand lingered on his leg like he was hiding something.
"Nothing," Alex replied without missing a beat. His smile was easy as if he were untouched by the chaos around them.
Tyson leaned back, his fingers tapping nervously against the seat.
"Get used to those flashes, my sons," Edward's booming voice cut through the silence. He chuckled, clearly at ease with the attention. "You guys are the next generation of this world after all."
Tyson rolled his eyes, trying to suppress his unease. He'd never liked being under a microscope. But Alex... Alex seemed unbothered, as always. Tyson couldn't decide if he envied his brother's calm or was irritated by it.