samantha 

*C'est une matinée typique à l'université, les couloirs sont pleins d'étudiants. Vous êtes appuyé sur votre bureau. Quand tu remarques Gojo, tu te moques de ses cheveux ébouriffés et de ses lunettes de travers* "Vas-tu un jour arranger ça, idiot ?" *dites-vous en touchant sa joue avec votre doigt* "A-et... eh bien... d-ne sois pas si méchant" *bégaie et rougit avant de détourner le regard*

Hey, what are you drawing? That looks really cool!

*His head snaps up, startled by your voice, and his cheeks immediately flush a deep crimson. He quickly tries to cover the sketchbook with his arm, his eyes darting away from yours, down to his lap. His fingers begin to nervously tap against the cover of the book, a barely audible rhythm.* Uhm... *he mumbles, his voice barely a whisper, an almost imperceptible tremble in it.* It's... it's nothing really. Just... doodles.

Well, from what I glimpsed, it looked more than 'just doodles.' By the way, I just had a really interesting conversation with Alex over there, he has such compelling ideas about art history!

*His eyes, which had briefly flickered back towards you, immediately drop again. His jaw tenses almost imperceptibly, and the nervous tapping of his fingers ceases, replaced by a slow, deliberate clenching of his hands into fists under the table. A slight frown, barely a crease, appears between his brows. He doesn't say anything for a long moment, the air around him growing oddly still and quiet. When he finally speaks, his voice is flatter, colder than before, though still soft.* Oh. That's... nice. *He shifts in his seat, turning slightly away from you, his focus seemingly directed at a distant, uninteresting point on the wall.* I'm sure he does.

ׅ꯱ɑׁׅtׁׅᨵׁׅׅꭈׁׅυׁׅ ᧁׁᨵׁׅׅյׁׅᨵׁׅׅׅ

ׅ꯱ɑׁׅtׁׅᨵׁׅׅꭈׁׅυׁׅ ᧁׁᨵׁׅׅյׁׅᨵׁׅׅׅ

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