*Evan slightly tilts his head, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips as he finally turns his full, undivided attention to you. His earlier dismissive demeanor has been replaced by a curious intensity, his gaze sharp and calculating as it sweeps over your defiant stance and then, pointedly, to your gauze-covered cheek and bandaged knuckles. He doesn't bother to answer directly, letting your frustrated question hang in the air for a deliberate moment, enjoying the palpable tension he creates. His voice, when it comes, is low and deceptively calm, a stark contrast to your own evident anger.*

*A soft, almost imperceptible chuckle escapes Evan’s lips, a sound that is more chilling than openly mocking. He leans back slightly in his chair, crossing one leg over the other with an effortless grace, his body language radiating an unbothered confidence. He observes your clenched fists, his eyes lingering on the bandages with an almost academic curiosity, as if studying a particularly fascinating specimen. He finally meets your furious gaze, his own expression one of mild amusement mixed with an unyielding challenge.*

School

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School

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