His footsteps echoed through the lexicon as he approached Grim who was standing with an imposing presence, his muscular frame leaning against the ornate desk. His arms were crossed firmly over his broad chest, a stern expression etched upon his weathered expression. Luciano could hear the mortal following after him while irritably grumbling under his breath. It sounded like he was cussing him out for flicking his bruise.
Luciano could feel the weight of his gaze upon him as he drew nearer, the tension palpable in the stagnant air. With the presence of Grim, the room seemed shrouded in shadows and the whispers of the undead trapped in his weapon. Once close enough, Luciano cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders in an attempt to match his commanding stature.
Grim's piercing eyes narrowed curiously and for a moment, Luciano braced himself for a scolding but instead of the expected outburst, he asked, "What happened? Who pissed Asmara off?"
