"Perhaps well is not the right word," Minerva gave the impression that that might have been sarcasm, and studied him more carefully. "You look alive, at least. Which is more than I can say for some." His fingers drumming, his slouch - she wondered if he was nervous, anxious about meeting with her. Part of her hoped that he was.
"I firmly believe that they will attempt to remove me, they have spent the greater part of the last six months attempting it to no avail." Though they were becoming more and more insidious, and she knew that eventually the noose would tighten, so to speak. "What I want from you, Severus, is your account. In person, so that I might hear it directly from you. Albus was sick, you killed him rather than have him wither and die, but there are holes in that account. For example, the attack that was meant for the school that evening?"