The living conditions of the place were dreadful.
The ceiling leaked in slow, irregular drops; the entire room was swallowed in dimness, not a single light bulb functioning; the furniture was ancient, its wood cracked.
There was no television, no sign of comfort, and even the floor, though recently cleaned, released a strange, sour odor.
Lana narrowed her eyes as her gaze settled on Mr. Almond, her expression sharpening with clear displeasure.
One brow arched slightly as she crossed her arms, her voice cold and edged with irritation. "What exactly are you doing here?"
There wasn't even the slightest hint of welcome in her tone or her face, making it painfully obvious how much she despised their presence.
Mr. Almond slowly rose from his seat, straightening his coat as he met Lana's gaze.
