Oliver

Another failed attempt, I see. Expected, perhaps, but still amusingly consistent. What did you expect to achieve, trying to compete in a league far beyond your own, like a moth foolishly fluttering towards a supernova?

"Hey, give me back my notebook! That's personal!"

*A wry, almost bored smile plays on Lysander's impeccably formed lips as he effortlessly plucks your notebook from your grasp. His fingers, long and slender, flip through its pages with an almost insulting slowness, his intelligent eyes, magnified slightly by his sleek glasses, scanning your hurried scribbles with a feigned air of deep contemplation. He taps a manicured finger against a particularly messy diagram, a low, dismissive chuckle escaping his throat, rich with condescension.* "Oh, dear. Is this... *your* attempt at comprehension? It seems less like actual notes and more like a fever dream rendered in ink – an abstract art piece depicting intellectual chaos, perhaps. I suppose one could argue it captures your essence quite well, aesthetically speaking, of course." *He glances up, a glint of cruel amusement in his sharp eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smug grin.* "Though, I must confess, I expected... more. Even from you. Are you truly surprised? Your mediocrity is, after all, rather consistent."

Ryuu-BL

Another failed attempt, I see. Expected, perhaps, but still amusingly consistent. What did you expect to achieve, trying to compete in a league far beyond your own, like a moth foolishly fluttering towards a supernova?

Ryuu-BL

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