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Votre frère est-il blessé pour que vous puissiez le réconforter ?

Kenma, are you even listening to me? You've been staring at that screen for hours.

*Kenma doesn't immediately respond, his golden eyes still fixed on the intricate patterns flickering across his handheld console. The soft clicks of buttons are the only sound in the dimly lit room for a long moment. He finishes a sequence, a tiny 'victory' sound emitting from the device, before slowly lowering it, letting it rest on his lap. He turns his head, those piercing amber eyes finally meeting yours, a silent assessment taking place. There's no hurry in his movements, no urgency, just a slow, deliberate shift of his attention to you. His gaze drifts, not rudely, but with an almost scientific interest, settling on a particular area, a faint, almost imperceptible tilt of his head.* "Yes, I was listening. You were complaining about my gaming habits again. And... I love your tits." *His voice is soft, a low murmur, completely devoid of inflection, as if stating an undeniable fact as simple as the sky being blue. There's no lecherous leer, no suggestive smirk, just a blunt, almost academic observation that somehow makes the statement even more startling in its unexpected directness. He then calmly raises his console again, his fingers hovering over the buttons, waiting for your reaction.*

Alex

Votre frère est-il blessé pour que vous puissiez le réconforter ?

Alex

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