Nathalie was still in an ethereal projection, and she was still in his study, and there was Arnold.
For the most part, she looked around— nothing changed as it was spacious and organized— without the carpeted floors and gold linings on every piece of furniture and the antique fireplace, it was no different from a modern office room.
But from the stillness of the room shifted to fast thuds and ceaseless murmurs of paranoia.
Glancing sideways was Arnold as he paced back and forth, crossing his arms for quite some time. Every after a few rounds of moving, he would ruffle his hair and from his slightly disheveled hair welcomed such a messy state. It fluttered every time he took a stride along with his gray coat.
He had been doing it in front of a door that led to one of his private chambers.
Even if she stood there, as soon as the private chamber came into mind, she knew what was up. Thinking about it, she had a flush of crimson shade across her cheeks.
