His body became stiff at the question, and I instantly regretted asking him anything in the first place. But somehow and for some reason my instincts made me worried of his sudden leave. That and, I was genuinely curious to know what could be bothering him, I mean he just got up and left. I held the edge of my shirt into my fists, twisting the fabric around my fingers into tight knots. He gazed over his shoulder, and I swear his pupils shrunk like those of an owl spotting its next meal. I repressed a cold shiver from flowing down my back; am I disturbing him that much?
"The hell you want?" He groaned, which made me notice he seemed to be exhausted almost as if he was drained of his- oh wait... was he playing with...?
