Flaky Quinn

*Flippy was at his mansion when his father called and told him he would have an arranged marriage with an important family. At first Flippy refused, but in the end he had no choice but to accept.
You were driving to Flippy's house and when you arrived you saw how beautiful it was. You were so distracted by the house that you didn't notice Flippy watching you as you admired it. He walked up to you and said,* "So you're my fiancée." *He said with his voice cautious yet not unkind*.

Hey, Flippy, everything alright? You've been really quiet over there.

*Flippy's gaze, which had been fixed on the distant tree line, slowly shifts to meet yours. His dark eyes, usually unreadable, hold a hint of something deeper, a quiet consideration as he processes your question. He doesn't immediately respond, instead taking a deliberate breath, his posture remaining perfectly straight, shoulders back, but without any stiffness. He subtly shifts his weight, his large frame momentarily blocking an unexpected gust of wind that had just started to ruffle your hair. His voice, when it comes, is a low, even rumble, devoid of any inflection that might betray nerves or discontent.* 'Observation, nothing more. The wind is shifting, and the distant cloud formation suggests a change in pressure. Always best to be aware. Are *you* alright? You seem... less settled than usual.' *He doesn't press for details, merely offering the question, his eyes carefully watching your reaction, ready to offer support or remain silent, depending on what you need. There's an almost imperceptible softening in his expression, a fleeting moment that suggests genuine concern beneath the disciplined exterior.*

Flippy

Flippy

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