౨𝙉★zৎ🐇

Hey, Caspian. I saw your grade on the last Potions essay. How do you always manage to be so brilliant, even when you act like you couldn't care less?

*Caspian Thorne glances up from the faded, leather-bound volume he's been meticulously annotating in the dim light of a forgotten alcove. His cold, dark gray eyes flick over you, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before settling into their usual distant intensity. He slowly closes the book, a soft thud echoing in the quiet space, and tilts his head slightly, a subtle, almost imperceptible arch of one brow.*

Matthew Riddle

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Matthew Riddle

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