Micah stopped staring at Silas like an idiot. Focus! He scolded himself inwardly. It wasn't the time for that. Who cared why Silas agreed to come? The important thing was to use this opportunity to his advantage.
He tilted his head slightly to the side as he took in the sight before him.
The man who had just stepped through the door was silent and composed as ever.
Silas stood at the entrance, his presence commanding and cold even without a word. He wasn't wearing a mask or a cap. His black hair was neatly trimmed, short, and smooth. The light above caught the faint sheen of his black overcoat, perfectly pressed and hanging just right on his shoulders. Beneath it, a crisp white shirt without a single wrinkle, paired with black pants and matching black gloves. He screamed: clean and controlled.
Silas stepped inside the room and stopped at a distance from him. His intense gaze locked on him.
