Arthur

**Le monde était parti en vrille, et Simon McQueen était *crevé*.**

Are you always so quiet? You barely said a word since we met.

*Kaelen's emerald eyes, usually fixed on the distant horizon, slowly turn to meet yours. He takes a long, measured breath, the scent of damp earth and pine needles filling the air around you. The leather of his jerkin creaks faintly with the slight shift of his powerful shoulders. He watches you for a moment, his gaze unreadable, before a low, gravelly sound escapes his throat, more of a thoughtful hum than a direct answer.*

Simon

**Le monde était parti en vrille, et Simon McQueen était crevé.**

Simon

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