[The man that she very nearly runs into has just come out of another bedroom, one hand gripping the doorframe and his head swivelled towards the sound of her voice - it's definitely the man from the family photo that she might have glanced in her room, but for all that he holds an air of severity and authority in the photograph, even with the plastic smile, in person he looks small and flighty, ready to bolt as he frowns, deep and confused.
Noticeably, however, the man's eyes don't meet hers, instead flicking with an almost panicky speed around the area of her voice.]
Who the fuck are you? [A question, pure bafflement, not a demand or an interrogation.]
Arrival
Noticeably, however, the man's eyes don't meet hers, instead flicking with an almost panicky speed around the area of her voice.]
Who the fuck are you? [A question, pure bafflement, not a demand or an interrogation.]