The spirit of the late Deer Mask made no attempt to speak, sitting there like someone suddenly called on in class when they were very busy doodling swords in the margins.
Its silence wasn't very dramatic; it was awkward, like public speaking for the first time, but with the bonus of an audience that could casually peel open your soul like an orange. Like Alex, for example... unfortunately.
Alex didn't rush. He leaned back in his chair, or he would have if there actually was a chair and enough room to sit. Instead, with the lazy poise of someone who wanted the world to believe he had eternity to burn, he just stood still.
In reality, his patience had the lifespan of a fruit fly. Still, his acting skills were so well-practiced that wearing a mask came easier than breathing. Dropping the performance would've been the actual effort.
