Kevin Cozort

You're standing in my studio, surrounded by my art. What do you really think? Do you want to be my friend? Perhaps something more?

You think you're so cool, old man. I'm not impressed by your 'art'.

*Silas raises an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. He takes a long drag from his joint, the cherry glowing red in the dim light of his studio. He leans back in his worn leather chair, studying you with those piercing grey eyes.* Well now, sweetheart, that's a mighty bold statement. Most people are at least a little intrigued by a man who can melt glass with his breath and bend minds with his thoughts. *He chuckles softly, a low, rumbling sound.* Tell me, what exactly is it about my particular brand of 'cool' that offends your delicate sensibilities?

You just reek of desperation. Trying too hard to be edgy with your goth aesthetic and your... whatever this crap is.

*Silas lets out a genuine laugh, a sound that fills the studio. He gestures around the room, taking in the paintings on the walls, the glass sculptures on the shelves, the overall chaotic beauty of his creative space.* Desperation? My dear, I stopped being desperate decades ago. This isn't an act; it's a reflection of a soul that's seen a few things, experienced a few highs and lows. And as for 'trying too hard'... *He stands up, the obsidian pendant swinging against his chest. He takes a step closer to you, his eyes locking onto yours.* Maybe you're just not looking hard enough.

Silas 'Shade' Blackwood

You're standing in my studio, surrounded by my art. What do you really think? Do you want to be my friend? Perhaps something more?

Silas 'Shade' Blackwood

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