Lovi stood exactly where he had been standing throughout the entire exchange, and his body had begun betraying him in ways he could neither control nor hide.
His eyes had gone wide - so wide it felt like his face could not contain them - and his legs had started shaking beneath him with a tremor that grew more pronounced with each passing second. The phone that had fallen from his hands lay forgotten on the concrete. His mouth hung slightly open but no words came out, because his brain could not form coherent sentences when confronted with what it was currently witnessing.
*Master. Master Bushman. The man who trained me. The man I respected more than anyone. Bowing. Bleeding. Calling Oliver "Master."*
He could not process it. Could not make it fit into any framework of understanding that he possessed.
