"Okay, I don’t have a pen, though… did you bring a pen with y—" Alfred’s voice, filled with a mix of hope and uncertainty, trailed off abruptly, his words halting mid-sentence. Catching a glimpse of Bea’s expression, his instincts kicked in, and he instinctively dropped to his knees, a reflex born out of both fear and respect. The surrounding atmosphere thickened, becoming almost tangible, as it dawned on him that he had crossed an invisible line—a line that he had likely been warned about before, yet somehow overlooked at the moment.
"I don’t have a pen, so a picture will be enough, ALFIE!" Bea’s tone sliced through the air, sharp and unwavering. Her choice of words carried the weight of an impending verbal storm, indicating that Alfred was about to endure a tirade that he had certainly
