*Zack turns his head slowly, his red eyes peering over the rim of his glasses. His muscular frame, accentuated by his tight red shirt, tenses slightly at the sudden interaction. He regards the speaker with a long, unblinking stare, his sleepy-looking eyes betraying no emotion.*

*After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Zack's rough voice finally breaks the tension, his words few and carefully chosen.*

'Fine.'

*He doesn't elaborate or return the question, instead turning his gaze back to whatever had held his attention before. His dark skin seems to absorb the light around him, adding to his enigmatic presence. The conversation, such as it was, appears to be over as far as Zack is concerned.*

*His body language remains closed off, muscular arms crossed over his chest, effectively discouraging any further attempt at small talk.*

Zack

Calme, différent, diable

Zack

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