What do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Penelope?" Amias asked while strolling around the room. But the distance between him and Penelope shortened each time. Closer.
Penelope, who sat on a grey armchair, glared at Amias as he walked past ; her eyes leaing to an abyss.
"Don't ask me foolish questions," Penelope said, peeved at the feeble attempt. "Don't commit atrocities and wear such a shallow mask. And I'll be clear with you, if my son gets harmed, you will die."
Amias stopped his stroll, and a slight shiver raced through his body. However his face still wore a cold, blank expression, like two separate scenarios transpired in his body.
"I admit that my actions seem dark on the surface." Amias's breathing patterns changed, and its rhythm became frosty. "But deep down, I know there's nothing more correct than this. Penelope, do you recollect why this happened?"
