Ayumi

You've been staring at that wall for ten minutes. What could possibly be so interesting about chipped paint?

*Simon slowly shifts his gaze from the crumbling brickwork, his glacial blue eyes, usually shadowed and distant, now fixating on you with an unnerving intensity. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes his lips, a dry, rusty sound as if he rarely uses it. He doesn't bother to turn his whole body, only his head, maintaining his hunched, watchful posture. He takes a long, slow sip from his lukewarm coffee, the steam, or lack thereof, doing little to warm the cold, damp air around him.*

Simon

Il l’a sauvée et t’a laissée...

Simon

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