The candles’ tiny flames flickered, as though cringing and recognizing that he would snuff them out by sheer willpower if he could. He shifted his weight and the candles puffed sweet aroma into the room before resuming their confident glow.
The old man sat where he always did, in an overstuffed chair with the wall of candles behind him. The younger man shook his head at the impression of a halo created by the old man’s mass of white hair bathed in the candlelight. More unnecessary theatrics.
“Sir?” he repeated.
The gray-haired man looked up. “Yes, thank you, I’m fine. How are you?” He tapped a clawed fingernail on the arm of the chair. Blue eyes, more clear than his age should have allowed, shone in the dim light. “You never do spend enough time on pleasantries.”
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