Lydia

The face in the mirror wasn't technically his -- technically, it was an amalgam of all the shapeshifts he'd picked up over the months since he'd gotten the power. The lines that branched out from the corners of his eyes had come from Danko, the gray that bled in from his temples now, from his mother, and so on and so forth, all of it super-imposed on his features to make him look older and to great effect. It was seamless, all of it, if a little hard to hold in place without one of his eyes shifting their color or his hair threatening to grow out, but that could be fixed with time and practice. He'd accomplished what he'd meant to, that was the important thing, even if he felt like an imposter. He'd done his part, done something selfless, for her, trying desperately to make up for how selfish he felt he was being in making her stay in the first place.

Sighing, he reached up to rub at the corners of his eyes, massaging the lines he'd put there away, then smoothed a hand through his hair, pushing the gray out of it. He studied himself in the mirror for a minute, making sure the other signs of age he'd inflicted on himself had faded when the two he'd physically willed away had, and once he was satisfied, he nodded, turning to head out of the bathroom where he'd spent most of the morning. And bracing himself for questions about why he'd been in there for so long in the first place, he meandered through the house, stopping in the doorway to the kitchen when he found Lydia there.

"Hey."