I see him put the pieces together as he clenches his jaw and moves his eyes back to mine. “Good morning, Fay,” he says, his calm belying the anger I can see roiling behind his eyes.
“Good morning, Kent,” I whisper, leaning against the doorframe, wanting the support.
Kent opens his mouth to say something but then snaps it shut, looking down again at the suit jacket and then turning his head to look down the hall. Or, at least that’s the direction of his gaze. I can tell from his unfocused eyes that he’s not looking at anything – just staring into space as he puts together his thoughts.
“I have new instructions for you,” he says after a moment, still not looking at me. I watch him, curious, my anxiety increasing. If he just has instructions, why didn’t he wait to give them to me at breakfast, like he always does?
“All right,” I say quietly, waiting for him to continue.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he just nods abruptly and turns away, heading back down stairs. I watch him go, baffled, but noting that he doesn’t look at me again. Not once.
Almost as if he can’t.
A little smirk pulls at my lips as I slowly shut my bedroom door and look down at Ivan’s suitcoat. Well. That hadn’t been my intention, when I put it on….But it certainly yielded results, didn’t it?
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