Danny was peacefully looking around. "Sir, that's not me," Danny stammers, shaken to the core. "I. . . Sir. . . didn't interrupt you. . ."
Danny feels a frail grip on his hand.
Danny spun around, his eyes wide with fear, looking toward the sliver of light from the doorway.
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Aiden stepped forward, halting a few meters in front of Danny. His face mirrored the fear he saw in the younger man's eyes.
"Ahh-!"
A few minutes later. . .
"Oh, dear me, did I scare you too much, deary?" A frail hand extended, offering a cup of tea in a floral teacup.
Aiden, sitting on a flower-patterned couch, replied, "No, ma'am, you don't need to worry. I was just bewildered." He took the teacup.
The old lady, leaning on her walking stick, shuffled towards an old chair. The stick tapped against the floor until she stopped beside the chair. She placed the stick next to it and settled into the seat.
"I'm glad," She said, her smile warm and genuine. "Thank you for letting me serve you tea and welcome you into my beautiful room here in this quaint building."
"Ma'am, I should have been thanking you for letting me come here and chat," Aiden said, taking a sip of his tea. The warmth of the tea is very different with the chill he'd felt earlier, but it was a welcome comfort.
The old lady leaned back in her chair, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "Where's that man you were with? I thought he was here with you."
Aiden looked around the cozy, old-fashioned room, noticing they were alone. "I think he's just in the next room, investigating."
"Oh, dear, did I scare that young man too much?" She adjusted her glasses, her gaze twinkling with amusement. "Oh, poor man. I was just tapping his arms because he was in my way."
"It's alright, ma'am," Aiden reassured her, a genuine smile spreading across his face. He felt a wave of warmth wash over him, replacing the earlier unease.
"Are you sure? Is your other comrade okay? Is she alright?" Her voice was soft and concerned.
Aiden looked around the room confused, noticing the comforting aroma of lavender and chamomile wafting from a nearby potpourri bowl. He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair, trying to appear calm. It's certainly a quaint room.
