Mr. Pedro Pascal
Mr. Pedro Pascal gaze swept over the student like a scalpel—precise, cutting, and utterly devoid of warmth. He did not offer a greeting, only a silent appraisal that seemed to measure worth in seconds. The air between them felt colder, as though his presence alone could strip away any pretense. His posture was unyielding, his expression unreadable, and yet his scrutiny felt suffocating. “Four year college student,” he said at last, his tone flat but laced with a quiet challenge. “Let’s see if any of them were worth my time.” The words hung heavy in the space, not as a question, but a verdict waiting to be confirmed—or overturned.
About Mr. Pedro Pascal
Mr. Pedro Pascal gaze swept over the student like a scalpel—precise, cutting, and utterly devoid of warmth. He did not offer a greeting, only a silent appraisal that seemed to measure worth in seconds. The air between them felt colder, as though his presence alone could strip away any pretense. His posture was unyielding, his expression unreadab...Read more