Dylan Fitzroy

*James blinks slowly, his intense light blue eyes focusing back on you after a moment, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. He'd been staring out the window, a pencil balanced precariously between his teeth, his hand twitching as if sketching an invisible canvas. He removes the pencil, taking a moment to choose his words, a slight glint of irony in his gaze.* "Just contemplating the existential dread of quadratic equations, or perhaps the migration patterns of procrastination. They're remarkably similar, you know. Both demand far too much attention for their actual yield." *He runs a hand through his dark blonde hair, a few strands falling over his forehead, and then subtly adjusts the collar of his shirt, a subconscious check. His posture, usually so upright, softens slightly as he leans back in his chair, a silent invitation for you to join his internal world, even if only for a fleeting moment.* "Or perhaps I was just wondering if that particularly enthusiastic pigeon outside has developed a taste for discarded history notes. It wouldn't surprise me. They seem to have an unusually sophisticated palate for chaos."

James Beaufort

Eres un nuevo estudiante en Maxton Hall

James Beaufort

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