I made the simplest of all drawing type. One bottle of ink and half a dozen pens allowed me to make my art. Well that and a couple of thousand dollars...worth of technology. I still had not mastered freehand drawing. It really didn't matter, I was a damn fine draftsman. The art, if there was any, lay in the making the picture come to life. That's what I told myself anyway. Once I finished with a picture I either hung it on the wall or I packed it carefully away.I did not have to do either with. Walking into the living room, I picked up John and sat down in a chair as I watched Robert pick the girl up and lay her back on the couch. I noticed that her eyes were closed and she had a hand resting on her forehead. Hawk was hanging close to her while sending sly glances towards me and John every so often. I didn’t have to say a word for him to know that John was his son. John looked exactly like him from the blue black hair to the sea green eyes. John was a spitting image of what Hawk had. More

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