"Cecil," Devon pulled a small stool, placing it in front of the sofa on which the intruder was seated.
The latter's head was lowered, fingers locked in his lap. He was still shaken, avoiding eye contact—a complete shell of a supposed A-Rank Esper.
Devon's neck snapped to Orion's room door just then. Ambrose just stepped out, shutting it gently behind him. Then his eyes locked on the S-Rank as he nodded slowly for him to continue.
The room was fully lit up, letting him see every outline on the A-Rank's features. Every movement his eyes made. Every time he twitched, he was reliving something terrifying.
There was something horribly wrong here. And Devon wanted to find out what—especially since Ambrose couldn't afford getting too emotionally worked up.
"Cecil… Aka Ghost," Devon went on smoothly, folding his arms in front of his chest. "Care to tell us what you were doing here to begin with?"
Silence.
