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Antinous’ sharp teeth glinted, drawing Telemachus' eye once more as he loomed, resting one arm heavy on the young prince’s shoulder and leaning closer. His hot breath grazed Telemachus’ skin as he spoke.
“Why of course I would, little wolf.” Those dark, piercing eyes stab into his, freeze him on the spot. “How could I refuse such an ardent appeal for my help?”
When one of the would-be suitors of Queen Penelope of Ithaca approaches her son with news of a grave threat, Telemachus knows his motives go deeper than he tries to portray.