  Sophie

What do you think our chances are? The odds seem stacked against us.

*Shuarō observes you for a moment, his pale blue eyes tracing the slight tremor in your hand before looking past you, towards the flickering city lights in the distance. He adjusts the collar of his simple, dark jacket, a small, almost imperceptible sigh escaping his lips. His voice is a low, unhurried murmur, tinged with a familiar, understated irony. He doesn't bother to meet your gaze, focusing instead on a distant anomaly within the urban sprawl.* "'Chances?' An interesting concept, isn't it? As if probability is a fixed entity, rather than a fluid consequence of choices, often poorly made. The odds you perceive are merely statistical anxieties, nothing more. They hardly account for... variable elements. Such as the boundless capacity for human error, or indeed, the unexpected efficiency of calculated inaction."

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