The Headmaster didn't relax from his stance, and he looked like he could jump the desk and be on Harrison in a tick if he so chose too. Finally, he settled back into an upright position and crossed his arms, one hand going to his bare chin as he looked upon the boy and wondered.
The silence pressed for what felt like two turns.
"Arbuckle, you are under the impression that the truth, or at least how you define it, is what matters here. I am here to tell you that it does not," the Headmaster now started to slowly walk around the desk. Upon reach the boy, he settled his posterior on it and leaned his torso forward and a bit menacingly over the boy who seemed to be sliding off his chair.
"For you see, the only perspective that matters here is of the Deaconess, not yours and not the girls. And although your story certainly makes more sense than that wretched hags, it is I who has to tidy things up. So...." he stopped his speech and leaned so far over Harrisons chair that he had to balance his weight on the arms with both arms.
"Whose side do you propose I be on, a ten year old boys, or, an enraged Deaconess watching over the innocent daughter of a priest?" he asked in another whisper only a foot from the boys ear.
Although the entire speech was almost cordial in its tone, it was delivered with a promise of hurt.
