Arnold Simmons chuckled softly, his voice hoarse, "Yeah, if you tell the truth, I won't do anything."
Hannah pouted, looked at him with a sense of grievance, not softening even in "dire straits."
"What if I don't tell the truth?"
Unable to help it.
Even when reason was burning up, it was like being poisoned, unwilling to stop.
He met the defiant and spoiled gaze of the young girl, seemed to sigh helplessly, reached out to wipe the tears from her face, and said in a deep voice, "Yeah, then I wouldn't have the heart to do it either."
Getting the answer that satisfied her, Hannah immediately cheered up.
Her mood changed from cloudy to sunny, lively and endearing beyond measure.
Probably really out of options.
Arnold Simmons simply carried her back to the sofa, not continuing the topic they had before, and his hands remained still.
Too quiet.
