Darius ran a hand through his hair, fingers dragging through the strands as he let out a long, tired sigh. "How have you been then, Herbie?"
The old man busied himself, plucking at stray threads and folding fabric that didn't need folding. "I'm quite fine, Darius," he replied, voice clipped, polite in the way someone trying not to feel anything might sound.
"Look-"
"No." Herbie straightened and held up his hand. "That will be all. You got your cloak. One for you, one for your lady friend. Please leave."
Darius looked at the floor briefly before turning around wordlessly and making for the door. Serena followed him, keeping her eyes glued to Darius' back.
"It was nice to see you," Darius said softly, glancing at the man before he stepped outside.
Herbie didn't answer, but Serena instinctively turned to glance over her shoulder. The old man stood motionless in the dim light, his frown carved deep into his wrinkled face. The door slammed shut before she could say anything.
