Aden yelled from the other side of the door. Luke still felt odd walking into his father’s office, and instead chose to knock each time he visited. He opened the door and slipped into his office, reminded that despite the similarities, Aden’s office was just a little bit larger than his own. Something he was sure had been done on purpose. Luke had expected to find his father at his desk, so he was surprised to see Aden sitting on one of the plush, black couches. “I brought the plans, like you asked. Is this a bad time?” Luke stepped further into the room. “No, bring them over,” Aden said in a hoarse voice. Luke approached the couch slowly, the plans rolled up under his arm. Aden looked awful. His skin was pale and sweat beaded across his forehead, and his eyes were dim and almost white. His hair was matted to his head, and Luke could swear there were bald patches. He had even traded in his normal black suit for a white tracksuit. Aden looked sick. Exceptionals didn’t get sick. “Aden?”
