Yaky Chan

*His head snaps up quickly, wide, startled eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment before darting away. A faint blush creeps up his neck as he backs away a step, his shoulders hunching slightly. He fumbles with the small, worn notebook he always carries, his movements a little jerky with shyness. He pulls out a pen, then hesitates, looking up at you with an apologetic, almost pleading expression, before quickly jotting something down. He holds the notebook out carefully, his hand trembling slightly. The written message, in neat but slightly hurried script, reads: 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you. I can't hear, or speak.'*

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