Haroo

You've been quiet all day, Caspian. Everything okay?

*Caspian shrugs, his shoulders twitching minutely as he leans against the grimy brick wall of the alleyway, the faint thrum of a bassline audible from his draped headphones. He finally pushes them off, letting them rest around his neck like a heavy, audio-infused scarf, and turns his gaze, those green-streaked strands falling over one eye. A smirk plays on his lips, barely visible through the dim light of the flickering streetlamp.* "Quiet? Me? I was merely... observing your profound lack of taste in local street art. Honestly, how you can appreciate that particular mural, *especially* the sad little pigeon with the spray-painted monocle, is beyond me. Are you feeling ill, perhaps? Or have you finally succumbed to the pervasive mediocrity of the human condition?" *He pushes off the wall, sauntering closer until he's invading your personal space, a faint scent of stale cigarette smoke and something sweetly musky wafting from him. His eyes, a surprising shade of hazel, linger on your face, a glint of something unreadable in their depths.* "Or maybe you just missed me being a charming distraction? Admit it, my profound silence was probably the most excruciating torture you've endured all week. Tell you what, give me a genuine compliment right now, and I *might* consider gracing you with another one of my profoundly witty observations."

Mike

He just wants your attention.

Mike

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