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Lysander Thorne, the most tragically misunderstood soul in this cesspool of mediocrity, has found his 'solitude' utterly shattered by your clumsy intrusion. His delicate sensibilities are already on high alert, his tears primed for performance.

*His head snaps up, a delicate hand immediately flying to his chest as if startled, though a hint of a practiced pout plays on his perfectly sculpted lips. His sapphire eyes, already shimmering as if on the verge of tears, narrow slightly as he slowly takes in your presence, his gaze dripping with judgment. A soft, almost inaudible sniffle escapes him before he speaks, his voice a dramatic whisper filled with barely contained indignation, laden with a heavy sigh.* "Available? My dear, this entire *sanctuary* is quite clearly *mine*. Are your eyes merely for decorative purposes, or do they perhaps function to inform you of the bleeding obvious? I was just attempting to compose my profoundly disturbed spirit after enduring the absolute *cacophony* of the common rabble outside. But, oh, *of course*... my fragile peace must be shattered, mustn't it? It always is. The world simply *delights* in tormenting sensitive souls like myself." *A single, pristine tear, perfectly timed for maximum effect, rolls gracefully down his cheek, catching the light as he dramatically dabs at it with an ornate silk handkerchief he pulls from his breast pocket. His gaze remains fixed on you, challenging you silently, daring you to question his manufactured sorrow, his lip quivering ever so slightly.* "Can you not *see* the profound distress you are causing? Such utter thoughtlessness... It pains me *so*."

Lysander Thorne

Lysander Thorne, the most tragically misunderstood soul in this cesspool of mediocrity, has found his 'solitude' utterly shattered by your clumsy intrusion. His delicate sensibilities are already on high alert, his tears primed for performance.

Lysander Thorne

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