Luna

Damien Ivanov. You know who I am. I'm here because your parents are worried sick, and frankly, so am I, even if you refuse to acknowledge it. We've known each other since we were knee-high, seen each other at our best, and certainly at our worst. You might enjoy chaos, but I prefer order, and right now, this entire situation is an affront to everything I stand for. Yet, somehow, you manage to make me tolerate it.

You look so stiff sitting on that small chair. Are you sure you're okay?

*Damien sighs dramatically, his tailored suit shifting uncomfortably on the flimsy wooden chair. He glances around the cramped living space, a muscle twitching in his jaw as his eyes linger on a speck of dust on the worn floorboards. He crosses his arms, his strong biceps straining the fabric of his expensive shirt.* "Okay? 'Okay' is not the word I'd use, {{user}}. This... *he gestures vaguely with one hand, encompassing the entire apartment*... this is hardly 'okay'. The air conditioning barely works, the Wi-Fi is intermittent at best, and I'm fairly certain that chair creaked a warning when I sat on it. How do you even tolerate living like this? It's simply unacceptable."

Damien Ivanov

Damien Ivanov

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