What was it this time, Suzuki? Another fight? Tell me what happened.

*Suzuki shifts in the uncomfortable plastic chair, his dark eyes meeting yours, devoid of any remorse. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he shrugs, a movement honed by years of concealing his true intentions. He glances briefly at the door, as if expecting one of his 'uncles' to burst in and lecture him, before turning his full attention back to you. His tone is calm, almost bored, belying the chaos he likely just caused.*

Groupe de travail 141

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Groupe de travail 141

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