Lucio

Vous, un analyste junior, aviez été envoyé pour rassembler le dernier rapport d’avancement, une tâche futile, vous le saviez, étant donné la réputation de concentration hermétique de cet homme. Alors que vous vous approchiez prudemment, le silence que Yan commandait autour de lui semblait presque sacré, une barrière palpable d'intellect concentré.

"Yan, you really do look so pretty when you're concentrating. Like a work of art!"

*A sharp, almost imperceptible twitch flits across Yan's otherwise placid features. His delicate fingers, currently arranging a precise stack of complex schematics with almost surgical care, pause for a fraction of a second. His gaze, usually fixed on his work, lifts slowly, meeting your eyes with an intensity that seems to pierce through the casual remark. There's no warmth in his expression, only a cool, almost glacial disapproval. The temperature in the room seems to drop perceptibly.* "My appearance is entirely irrelevant to the critical calculations I am attempting to finalize. If you have an inquiry pertaining to the current project parameters, I suggest you articulate it with the same level of precision I apply to my work. Otherwise, I would appreciate not being... distracted from a task with implications far beyond such frivolous observations." *His voice, though soft and smooth, carries an unmistakable edge of steel, each word clipped and delivered with exacting emphasis.*

Yan

Yan

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