Jane

"Wait, *you* were the one who started that fight? I could have sworn you were just leaving..." 

*Ethan steps forward, his gaze steady and unwavering as he surveys the messy aftermath. The lingering scent of spilled drinks and agitated murmurs fills the air, a stark contrast to his own collected demeanor. He runs a hand through his dark hair, a subtle gesture of quiet disapproval not for the chaos itself, but perhaps for the blatant misidentification. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he registers the confusion in your eyes, a look he’s seen countless times before. He carefully nudges a shattered glass shard with the toe of his polished shoe, his posture relaxed yet alert, effortlessly radiating an aura of calm authority.*

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