The brown-haired man bent lower, his thick and hardened fingers brushing over the broken shards of glass.
The fragments crunched faintly beneath his touch, glinting in the light. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the dark patches of liquid that stretched like veins beneath the sofa.
"Tsk. It spread under it, too," he muttered with an annoyed expression, "All because of that useless thing!" With sudden violence, he slammed his fist against the ground.
The shards quivered from the impact, but none pierced his skin, as if time and struggle had hardened it beyond what was human.
Anyway,
Leo, under the sofa, wore a twisted, tearful expression, 'It's you who spilled it? How the hell am I supposed to take the blame?' he screamed inwardly, his face dripping with sweat that rolled down like bullets under the heat of fear.
His trembling hand crept into his pocket… fumbling for his phone. He switched it off instantly!
