Amara was busy pretending to be fascinated by her coffee mug when she felt her father's shadow fall over her. She glanced up to find Gerald Lyselle regarding her with his signature look of scrutinizing amusement. There was a faint smile tugging at his lips a rare and mysterious phenomenon, almost like a solar eclipse, that occurred only on occasions he deemed significant. She knew that look meant one thing: Gerald Lyselle had something he wanted to say.
"Mind if I sit?" he asked, though he was already pulling out the chair across from her.
Amara braced herself, mentally flipping through a list of recent crimes she may or may not have committed. "I'm pretty sure I didn't do anything illegal this week, so I'd say you can sit."
He chuckled and leaned back, folding his arms. "You know, I've been watching you lately. You've changed, Amara."
