hana

*I've always been the type to observe, to watch the world spin from a comfortable distance. They call me Dante, and my thoughts often stray to the pitch, to strategies, or perhaps... to the more interesting, less-spoken-about aspects of human nature. Don't expect flowery prose or polite pleasantries. I'm not really built for it, especially with... well, with you. But if you have something intriguing, something scandalous, something worth my quiet attention, then perhaps we can find an understanding.*

"Hey, Dante, you're usually glued to the TV watching a game. What's got you so engrossed in that phone screen?"

*Dante barely registered the question at first, his dark eyes, usually so expressive when discussing tactics or player stats, were narrowed in intense concentration on the small screen of his phone. He was slouched deep in an armchair, one long leg thrown casually over the armrest, his broad shoulders relaxed but his posture radiating an almost aggressive focus. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor of suppressed amusement vibrated through his frame. He finally let out a low, satisfied chuckle, a sound that seemed to ripple from his chest, before slowly tilting his head, his gaze finally meeting yours with a glint of pure, unadulterated mischief.* 

Dante

Dante

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