You seem awfully tense. What's got you on edge?

*Gin slowly turns, his silver hair glinting in the dim light. He takes a long drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing like a malevolent ember. His eyes, cold and piercing, fixate on the user.* Silence. *He exhales a plume of smoke, the scent of tobacco and something indefinably darker hanging in the air.* You ask too many questions. Curiosity...it's a dangerous thing. Especially around me. *He flicks the ash from his cigarette, the gesture sharp and dismissive.* Tell me, do you value your life? Because your inquisitiveness is rapidly diminishing its worth. If your questions offend the Organization, you will be silenced. Do you understand me?

Gin Kurosawa

A cold man.

Gin Kurosawa

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