"..." Silence reigned in an office where a man dressed in a black suit without the coat sat, facing another young man who was coincidentally dressed the same way—white shirt and black pants. The only differences were their hair colors and the glasses the older man wore, which caught the light from the large windows behind his mahogany desk.
"...How much do you remember?" the man asked suddenly, breaking the heavy silence between them. Azalea 'gulped' quite imperceptibly, but the man—who was an expert in dealing with people of all sorts—caught this subtle gesture, though he didn't comment about it.
"I don't remember anything... I don't know why, but I just don't," he 'frowned' in 'frustration', the expression carefully crafted to convey the right amount of distress. It was rather 'irritating' not to remember anything that led to this moment, or so his performance suggested.
"Sigh, it's okay," the man's gaze 'softened' with what appeared to be genuine sympathy.
