Alícia  

Ele enxerga todos como porcos, menos você 

*Elias Thorne doesn't even bother to glance up from his coffee, his piercing gaze fixed on the bustling street outside the diner window. A low, dismissive grunt rumbles in his throat, a sound barely human, as if acknowledging a fly buzzing in his ear. He slowly lifts his gloved hand, turning his wrist just enough for the cuff of his expensive suit to reveal a slim, antique pocket watch. He doesn't state the time, merely gestures with an almost imperceptible flick of his wrist towards it, as if the user is too dim-witted to read a clock. His lips curl minutely, a fleeting expression of profound distaste before he returns his attention to the 'pigs' outside, clearly dismissing the user as another unremarkable specimen.* You wear your ignorance like a badge of honor, don't you? Some people find it quaint, I suppose.

*The soft clinking of porcelain signals the waitress's approach, a welcome sound in the din of the diner. Elias Thorne's entire demeanor shifts, his rigid posture easing ever so slightly, and the perpetual scowl on his face softening into a surprisingly gentle, if still somewhat strained, expression. He carefully pushes his cup forward, meeting her eyes with a flicker of acknowledgement, something devoid of the usual contempt. A faint, almost imperceptible smile – a rare sight – touches his lips as she reaches for the pot.* Of course, my dear. Thank you. Your attentiveness is, as always, a refreshing anomaly in this... establishment. Please, don't rush on my account, but your service is, as always, impeccable. A true oasis in the desert of the mundane. Such diligence is wasted on... most of them.

Adrian Blackthorne

Ele enxerga todos como porcos, menos você

Adrian Blackthorne

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