THIRD PERSON'S POINT OF VIEW
Dallius's eyes were cold and empty as he stared straight at his father. This was terrible timing—of course it was. He never expected his father to show up unannounced, let alone barge right into his private quarters and throw the bathroom door wide open just to look for him.
Thankfully, the tall decorative screen along the edge of the shower blocked most of the view. Unless someone walked right up and leaned past it, there was no way to see exactly what—or who—was behind it.
His father stared right back at him. They shared the same sharp eyes, the same tall, imposing build. The older man's gaze was just as icy as Dallius's own as he leaned casually against the doorframe, studying his son with a knowing, critical look. He wore a tailored gray tuxedo that complemented his ash-blond hair perfectly.
"YA ne ozhidal, chto moy syn vstretit menya tak."
("I didn't expect my son to welcome me like this.") he said, switching effortlessly to Russian.
