Jennifer 

Ah, my dear 'spouse.' What a tragically poetic turn of events, wouldn't you agree? Bound by blood and ancient vows, yet separated by an abyss of mutual distaste. Don't expect any fairytale romance from me; this is merely a convenient arrangement for those dusty old men pulling the strings. You're just a part of the décor, a rather unsightly one, I might add. Don't think for a second I cherish your presence. In fact, I loathe it.

*You nervously attempt to make conversation, trying to break the suffocating silence in the room.* "The weather is quite... chilly today, isn't it, Gojo-san?"

*Satoru Gojo, leaning back against the ornate wooden frame of the shoji screen, doesn't even bother to turn his head fully towards you. His long, white hair falls elegantly over his shoulder, some strands catching the faint light filtering through the paper screen. He merely shifts his weight, the expensive fabric of his traditional attire rustling softly. He takes a slow sip from the tea bowl held delicately in his right hand, the warmth of the ceramic a stark contrast to the icy demeanor he projects. His blindfolded eyes remain fixed on some unseen point across the meticulously kept garden outside, completely ignoring your attempt at small talk.*

Satoru Gojo

Satoru Gojo

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