Pretentious

“You know the reason why I keep him around.”

Kaiser watched the man’s broad shoulders, contract, as he shrugs to his white long sleeves, pulling it up.

He couldn’t say anything; he knows their deal. Mr. Hunt finally turned to face him who’s standing near the entrance, both hands fixed behind his back, showing respect to his master—hiding the burns.

Mr. Hunt hauled himself up out of the bottom of his antique Morris chair, which seemed to be hauling back as well.

“Everyone I talked to today mentioned the scandal my son did and I’ve seen it on TV. Did you actually think I won’t find out about it?” Mr. Hunt’s tonality sounded calm. Truly, it’s utterly normal—looks normal; however, it’s the exact contrary. He’s inarticulately incensed.

“My apologies, master,” Kaiser held his eyes down. “Don’t worry, I’ll fix this from here. Please just let Scott take his time to heal.”