Apollo
I looked down at the father and son on the floor.
The boy was licking the wine slowly, his tongue dragging across the marble. Tears streaked his face, mixing with the liquid. His father remained crouched beside him, head bowed, his hand resting on the boy’s back, forcing him lower each time he hesitated.
Around them, the crowd gawked. Eyes wide, hands over mouths.
A voice whispered, “Just how powerful is this man? I’ve heard the rumors about how dangerous he is, are people really that scared of him? Scared enough that a director would go on his knees like that?”
Another voice followed quickly. “Dangerous? You have no idea. Nobody can tame a beast like him.”
The boy’s father slowly looked up at me, his face glistening with sweat. “P-please, sir… forgive my son. He’s young, an
