I cautiously shake his hand as he takes a seat on the leather ottoman that's in front of the couch. He doesn't seem nearly as scary as he did earlier when he was wearing his long black coat and was accompanied by his two ominous henchmen.
He's in his mid- to late-seventies, with a full head of thick white hair. His hair is a sharp contrast to his skin which has a deep, golden brown tan like he just got back from vacation. His suit jacket is off, leaving him in a white dress shirt, blue striped tie, and black pants. He's average height and has a bit of a paunch in front.
"Are you going to kill me?" I blurt it out, and it sounds crazy, but when I'm nervous I tend to spit out whatever's on my mind. And if he truly is going to kill me, I want to know."
"No! Of course not!" He puts his hand
