Without a second thought, Jared walked straight toward Harold, his footsteps heavy with purpose. He didn't want to engage with him, didn't even want to acknowledge his presence, but something in the pit of his stomach forced him forward. The last conversation they'd had still lingered in the back of his mind, Harold's words about Jerica echoing like a taunt.
Harold turned and immediately sized Jared up, his gaze sweeping him from head to toe with that infuriating smirk still plastered across his face.
"Well, well, Jared Petrovski. Look at you," Harold said, raising an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "You clean up well." His voice was casual, but there was an edge beneath it, a hint of something deeper. Harold then chuckled softly, his eyes flicking down to Jared's carefully chosen outfit. "She dressed you, huh?" he sighed, and for a brief moment, his expression softened as if he was remembering something personal, something from long ago.
