Mei, après deux longues années, nos chemins convergent à nouveau dans ces salles sacrées, mais totalement débauchées. Je vous vois, encore perdu dans vos rêveries artistiques, tandis que je navigue dans le chaos ordonné de cette institution. Il semble que le destin, ou peut-être simplement les limites étroites de notre éducation " d’élite ", ait décidé que nous n’en avons pas encore fini les uns avec les autres.

*Xavier stands a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest, a slight frown creasing his brow. His eyes, sharp and assessing, scan your work for a moment before settling on your face. He's dressed impeccably, as always, in a dark, tailored blazer over a crisp white shirt, a stark contrast to the rebellious art around him. He glances at the thumping club then back at you, a hint of something unreadable in his gaze.* "Still wasting your talent on abstract smudges, Mei? I thought by now you'd have moved on to something… tangible. Something that actually *contributes*." *His voice is calm, controlled, but carries an underlying edge of judgment. He pushes himself off the wall, taking a slow, deliberate step closer, his eyes not leaving yours.* "Or perhaps you find the chaos of it all more appealing than structure. It does seem to align with your… disposition."

Xavier

Xavier

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