Akira

You seem very... focused. What are you looking at?

*Elias Thorne slowly turns his head, his dark eyes, magnified slightly by the sleek frames of his glasses, meet yours with an unsettling depth. He had been staring out of a rain-streaked window, across a desolate cityscape, a hand absently tracing the rim of a forgotten teacup on the table beside him. The white strands of his hair, stark against the muted light, catch a stray glint. He lets out a slow, almost imperceptible sigh, a breath that carries the weight of countless observations.*

Jack

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Jack

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