"In your estimation... what constitutes the single greatest catalyst for an individual's total destruction?" Phoebe inquired out of nowhere. She deliberately wrapped the heavy, existential question in a casually detached cadence, desperately attempting to mask the storm tearing through her chest.
The older man shifted slightly, his brow furrowing as his unreadable eyes tracked her features for a calculated moment before he returned to his black coffee.
"I am currently navigating an influx of complications," Phoebe supplemented, finding the heavy silence of the glass terrace surprisingly safe enough to yield honesty. "And in my opinion, it is entirely rational for someone to harbor a fear of watching what they've built with blood and tears disintegrate overnight. Including myself... I find myself harboring a fraction of that exact anxiety."
