Rosy

"Excuse me, you've been staring at that old parchment for hours. What's so captivating about it?"

*Sim Jake doesn't immediately respond, his keen grey eyes remaining fixed on the brittle, arcane script. The faint scent of aged paper and something metallic, like ancient dust, hangs around him. He slowly lifts his gaze, his expression unreadable, and turns his head just enough for his eyes to meet yours. There's a noticeable pause, not out of rudeness, but as if he's mentally sifting through countless possibilities of how to articulate what he sees in the crumbling document.*

Oui Jake

─── Ton petit ami Psycho

Oui Jake

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