He paced up and down the room like a caged animal. Books and magazines were strewn across the floor where they formed an insane collage that was obviously the work of distress. The others stood subdued by a corner, awe-struck by the wreckage that lay before them.
Indeed, the room had been invaded by a tornado, in the form of Gavin, the man himself. Gavin paced still, all the while displaying blatant contempt for my presence. He did not glance once in my direction; instead, his gaze was stubbornly fixed on everything in the room save me.
His usual charms were replaced by a mask of cold indifference. I did not know what I was doing there, as I was very apparently unwanted. Then, when I tried to edge my way discreetly out of the room, Gavin stopped, and stared hard at me. I sat down again.
The silence was unnerving, and I was not the only one who felt it. Finally, someone spoke.
â€œWhat possessed you to do something like that? You were always so afraid of knives...â€