One of the old men, who was talking, intimidatingly kept approaching.
Slow.
Measured.
Too measured.
Dante held his ground, chest broad, expression calm, not even welcoming.
The man's hand reached out and pressed against Dante's forearm.
He stopped there a little as if checking for a pulse. However he rubbed his arm up and down… perhaps feeling something.
" Can I help you? We were just getting back home… missed our bus. We were in town for practice. We are preparing for the tournament but our parents were adamant. Said we must return for the festivals… that's all… is everything, alright?What are you folks doing here at this time? "
The man's eyelids twitched.
Dante's response was spot on.
He looked back at his men.
Once.
Twice.
His nostrils flared.
A faint frown creased his brow.
He looked over Dante's shoulder at Liam and the others, confusion flickering through his eyes.
Dante felt the exact moment realization seeped in.
