The night was already deep. Though the residence was brightly lit, it carried a natural hush, making the gentle voice from the communicator seem especially clear and penetrating, as if every syllable vibrated against the eardrums, pressed into the body, and sank deep into the marrow.
Ronan had pivoted and posed questions repeatedly, until that final, "What should we do?" Though his tone was gentle, the meaning behind it carried a chilling frost.
Mora had no intention of indulging his nasty temper and had long wanted to interrupt him. Yet whenever she tried, invisible fine cords would sweep past her through the air, like strings, chains, and swords alike, humming low and deeply, piercing straight into her heart.
That invisible sound happened to echo Ronan's seemingly helpless "What should we do?"
Tsk, kids these days found it far too easy to learn bad habits!
And it seemed he had learned them from me...
Mora stared at the wineglass in her hand. A few remaining drops rolled back and forth across its bottom, yet struggled helplessly within that tiny space, unless the whole glass was overturned.
Her index finger moved slightly away from the glass wall and flexed a little. It was still as nimble as ever, yet she could not shake the feeling that something was wrong.
That made her abandon the mad impulse to smash the glass. But at that moment, perhaps because Ronan had reached the end of his point, the maddening pressure in the air eased slightly and gave her a chance to speak.
Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say he had "signaled" for her to speak.
Mora kept smiling and played along perfectly. "What should we do... Yes, Junior Brother, what do you think we should do?"
"Only by improving efficiency." Ronan completed