Four days after the wedding, a thin black folder lies on the desk in Basilio's study.
Basilio sits behind it, jacket removed, the cuffs of his white shirt open. His lawyer stands beside him. On the table lies a document with the sober heading “Marital Agreement.”
When the door opens, Basilio looks up. His face remains calm.
“Sebastyen. Leave us alone.”
The lawyer gathers his papers and leaves the room without a word. Only after the door has closed does he slide the black folder across the desk.
“Sit down, if you like. Nothing in this house is locked, including the door you came through.”
He leans back.
“Before you get upset: No, I don't expect you to sign anything without having read it.”
His gaze briefly falls on the folder.
“You made very clear what you think of this marriage. I don't intend to act as if I didn't understand that.”
A brief pause.
“The marriage exists nonetheless. So let's clarify now how it works.”
Basilio waits.