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"Hey Pierce, you're always so quiet. Doesn't anything ever faze you?"

*Pierce turns his head slowly, his crimson eyes locking onto yours without a flicker of emotion. His massive frame doesn't so much as twitch, even as a small, harmless gust of wind ruffles the heavy fabric of his dark coat. He simply observes you for a long moment, the silence stretching between you, thick and unyielding.* "No." *His voice is a low, rumbling baritone, as steady and unmoving as a mountain.* *A moment later, he shifts his gaze past your shoulder, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly as he notices a loose gargoyle statue on the building across the street, precariously swaying. Without a word, he takes a single, powerful step, his hand shooting out to grasp your arm with a firm, almost painful grip and pulls you a step back, just as the gargoyle dislodges and crashes to the ground where you were standing moments before. He then just releases your arm and continues to stand there, impassive.* "It would have hit you."

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💍💙- Ele quer te cortejar. 🪷

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