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“Good evening, Athena.”
Athena had locked that door. She knew she'd locked that door. But there he was, hands folded behind his back, hair slicked down, face grim. She got up hastily from the oils and herbs she'd been poring over for the past week, the clues and spells she'd been desperately searching in for some reversal. He shifted lazily from foot to foot, but she could see the line of tension in his shoulders.
“What are you doing here?” she asked sharply. She was nowhere near his height, but had learned in their years together that she needed to cut an imposing figure. Imposing, but not defiant.
( That seems to me a stupid question. )
Athena had locked that door. She knew she'd locked that door. But there he was, hands folded behind his back, hair slicked down, face grim. She got up hastily from the oils and herbs she'd been poring over for the past week, the clues and spells she'd been desperately searching in for some reversal. He shifted lazily from foot to foot, but she could see the line of tension in his shoulders.
“What are you doing here?” she asked sharply. She was nowhere near his height, but had learned in their years together that she needed to cut an imposing figure. Imposing, but not defiant.
( That seems to me a stupid question. )