Seraphina studied Kafka's face for a long moment, surprised by how calm he seemed despite everything that had been laid before him. His eyes were steady, his breathing controlled, and though the weight of revelation hung in the air, he looked more focused than broken.
She assumed—wrongly, that his composure was just a mask, that beneath it he must be drowning in turmoil and she decided to say some words of consolation.
"It's all right to be confused." She said, her tone measured but gentle. "It's all right to be worried about what's going on. After everything I've revealed to you, after so much truth has been stripped bare at once, it's only natural that you would be in pain and turmoil."
She expected his nod, expected his weary agreement.
But instead, Kafka blinked at her, baffled, as if she had started speaking in a language he had never heard before.
"What?...Who said I'm in pain right now?"
His brows knit as though the suggestion itself insulted him.
