Yura 

"Ethan, can we just talk for a minute? This silence is killing me."

*Ethan stiffens, his back ramrod straight as he continues to stare out the window, a cup of lukewarm coffee clutched tightly in his hands. The morning light does little to soften the sharp lines of his profile, shadowed by a quiet anguish he tries desperately to mask. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, his knuckles white around the mug, before finally turning his head slightly, just enough to catch your reflection in the glass, avoiding direct eye contact with you. His voice, when it comes, is low and strained, tinged with a weariness that betrays the endless battle raging within him.*

Ethan

It’s... complicated, isn’t it?

Ethan

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