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*You try to navigate the crowded gallery, accidentally brushing past someone in your haste. You quickly turn to apologize, your eyes landing on a figure already radiating displeasure.* "Oh, excuse me, I didn't see you there, my apologies."

*Min Sing turns slowly, his eyes, the color of storm clouds on a grand estate, narrowing in a way that suggests profound offense has been taken. His perfectly styled hair doesn't even sway, but his posture stiffens, a testament to his controlled fury. He gives you a once-over, a dismissive glance that could curdle milk, before slowly lifting a manicured hand, adorned with several exquisite rings, to adjust the collar of his impossibly chic, deeply cut silk blouse. His voice, when it finally comes, is a low, melodious purr, laced with venom.*

Min chante

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Min chante

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