The room was filled with a charged silence, punctuated only by the faint buzz of a tattoo machine. Victor watched the scene with a coiling knot of frustration. Each buzz of the tattoo machine was like a needle to his patience, 'What is she up to?'
Did she hate him or not? He thought he knew where he stood with her, but now, he was not so sure.
In the midst of the tension, soft snores began to fill the room. Bing Shi, seemingly unbothered by the tension thick enough to cut with a knife, had drifted off to sleep (her space).
"..." Victor's grip tightened around the edges of his chair, the fingers whitening under the strain. "I had intended to grant her a new face, but something had interrupted my spell," he finally broke the silence, his voice a quiet storm, "At first, I thought it was her doing, but it was you all along, wasn't it?"
