Adam hurled a beaker at the wall, not caring about the glass shards raining all over the lab floor. It wasn't his first beaker or his first hundred; in fact, there wasn't a single place in the room that was even safe to walk.
Even he, the first man, was covered in scrapes and blood. Not caring about the tiny slivers burrowing deep into his face, Adam continued to pace back and forth, his heavy boots grinding the glass to dust.
"Temper, temper," mused Eric, as he took a sip of the whiskey in his hand. His first few drinks had been sacrificed to his father's temper, but he was making sure that this one at least hit his stomach before the glass hit the wall. "It's been a while since I've seen you this pissed."
Adam, gone beyond the ability to speak, simply growled like an animal as he paused for a second to glare at Eric.
