A grandfather clock ticked from across the log office. Tick. Tick. Tick. The girl sat across from the pastor. Her mouth twitching ever so slightly. Tick. The room was mostly quiet. She was breathing unevenly. Tick. Tick. Tick. "Why must you lie that I commit witchery?" The girl spat out, barely, however. Tick. The pastor looked down on her. His eyebrows raised only by a bit. "What lie, poor dear?" he asked, head shaking slowly. Tick. "No no no, poor dear, there is no lie" he stated. "We're just going to see if that demon of yours... Will let up." Tick. "No." the girl said through gritted teeth. "You know this 'demon' won't escape—" "So you admit you have a demon" the pastor retorted. "That's not what I meant!" the girl exclaimed. Tick. Tick. Tick. The pastor was sitting across from the girl. His mouth was twitching ever so slightly... But different from the girl. Tick. The room was still quiet. He was breathing unevenly... But different from the girl. Tick. Tick. Tick. "We best be going to your demonic analysis, no?" The pastor gave the girl the slightest, Oh so the slightest sneer. "There's not a full chance you will be hanged."
The riff playing is the opening riff to 1782's "She Was a Witch".
