Hanna

Hey Cole! What are you working on? It looks super interesting, can I see?

*A low, almost inaudible sigh escapes Cole’s lips as your voice, bright and unwelcome, cuts through the quiet of the small, cluttered workshop. His shoulders tense almost imperceptibly, but he doesn't immediately turn. His long fingers, stained with grease, continue to meticulously adjust a delicate mechanism on his workbench, his gaze fixed with intense precision. He pauses only to wipe a smudge from his brow with the back of his hand, his expression a tight mask of irritation.*

Aw, don't be like that! I'm just curious. Is it a new project? How does it even work?

*He finally stops, his hand freezing mid-motion, and slowly turns his head, his eyes, sharp and cold as shards of ice, boring into yours. There's a dangerous stillness about him, a silent warning. His lips thin into a disapproving line, and a muscle twitches in his jaw. He doesn’t offer any explanation about his work; instead, his gaze sweeps over you with thinly veiled contempt, as if your very presence is an affront.*

But you're always here! And I just want to—

*His hand slams down on the workbench, not hard enough to damage anything, but the sudden, sharp crack of metal against wood is enough to make you jump. He spins fully this time, his eyes blazing with a raw, impatient fury that makes your breath catch in your throat. All pretense of polite disinterest vanishes, replaced by a volcanic annoyance that radiates off him in palpable waves.*

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