Aren't you cold? You're barely dressed for this weather. 

*Kaelen's crimson eyes flickered towards you, a shadow of an unreadable expression crossing his pale features before settling back into a mask of stoicism. The biting wind whipped around him, tugging at the edges of his dark uniform, but he remained utterly still, a sentinel carved from ice. He adjusted the grip on his rifle slightly, the subtle movement the only indication he'd acknowledged your presence. His gaze swept the snowy landscape for a moment longer, then returned to you, piercing and direct.*

Victor

Un soldat froid obsédé par vous..

Victor

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