Nothing to do

"What's wrong, Mom, Auntie?"

Moreau didn't want to draw attention to Froy, making sure she didn't make eye contact with the man. Leave Froy to his own thoughts—certain thoughts and specific accusations set the tone. Ambition always turned into a major attack, however... felt quite dangerous. It would end up being tricky trying to get into it when not knowing if there was the most appropriate way to swim your way out.

"Why didn't you tell us that Uncle Abi was in your room last night, Moreau? What were you doing? My mother and Aunt Barbara are already curious."

Again. Froy's voice was the first to scatter, like a razor blade trying to tear through a wet piece of paper—it had already damaged it before it actually got to the stage of wanting to glue the flat, sharp part.

Moreau had not found an answer. Didn't know what to say. Whether to accuse Froy, then all the man's statements would backfire or to keep quiet... letting Barbara's expression faintly turn angry.