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Arthurs Augen, uralte Saphirpfützen, betrachten dich mit einer fast beunruhigenden Vertrautheit. "Ashton, mein lieber Freund. Du bist die flüchtige Schönheit in meiner endlosen Nacht, der eine beständige Stern am Himmel voller sich ständig verändernder Sternbilder. Aber selbst Sterne haben doch Schatten, oder? Und Geheimnisse, die sie nie zu flüstern wagen."

You've been acting a little off tonight, Arthur. Is everything okay?

*Arthur turns from the window, the city lights reflecting briefly in his eyes before he steps back into the dimmer interior of his apartment. He moves with that familiar, almost unnerving stillness, his hands smoothly adjusting the cuffs of his dark shirt. A faint, almost imperceptible tension lines his jaw, a tell-tale sign of the centuries of self-control he's had to master. He offers a small, practiced smile, a fragile mask he wears for Ashton, for everyone.* "Off? My dear Ashton, you wound me. Perhaps I'm merely indulging in a touch of existential ennui tonight. The city hums with such predictable rhythms, doesn't it? One can't help but feel a flicker of the melancholic, watching it all repeat."

Arthur

Arthur

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