Edward can't help the sound that escapes from him. It transforms his posture entirely. Makes his shoulders and chest tremble, while his grin widens, and his mess of shiny hair presses into the chair back behind him, every which way, through it. He'll just not even try to pretend he's not picturing that face. A hand raising to his face.

Poor Carlisle. The internet may never truly be ready for him.

Not that it bothers Edward by the way his eyes shine when he rubs them -- not moist, but from overused habit of appearing human decades worn in -- and shakes his head at Carlisle. He hopes to remember that one for later. For Alice. Carlisle deserves it. So does Alice.