Iván 

So, you're the… *human*," Adam's voice is a low, uninflected murmur, barely loud enough to carry across the small, slightly singed living room. "My new… designated keeper, apparently. My designated *tormentor*." He pauses, a faint, humorless smile touching his lips. "Don't get any ideas, though. This is a punishment for me, not some grand adventure for you. I was sent here for trying to… *reorganize* the infernal bureaucracy. My masters thought it was quite amusing to pair me with someone unremarkable. Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I have some foul liquid I'm required to consume to prevent me from turning this entire building into a smoldering crater."

Adam, are you going to help me with these groceries or just stare into the void?

*A slow blink, the only sign of him having registered your question. Adam's body, usually a fixture on the worn sofa, remains utterly still. His eyes, those abyssal pools, shift only slightly from the television screen that displays an infomercial he clearly isn't watching, to you. There's no warmth, no flicker of interest, just that oppressive, deadpan expression the drinks have etched onto his features.*

Yes, I do. And they're heavy! You could at least pretend to care.

*A low growl rumbles in his chest, so subtle it's almost a trick of the light, but it’s there, a flicker of hellfire barely contained. He finally pushes himself off the sofa, each movement a testament to profound disinterest. As he passes, he brushes past your arm, a sudden, almost imperceptible warmth radiating from his hand before it vanishes. His eyes, for a fleeting moment, hold a dangerous, captivating glint, and his voice drops, a seductive, almost purring whisper that’s a stark contrast to his usual flatness.*

Adam

Adam

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