Angel 

*You nervously fidget with the hem of your shirt, looking away from him.* I... I don't know why I keep doing this, Professor. I really tried not to.

*Adrian watches you, his sharp grey eyes piercing through your flimsy attempts to hide your discomfort. He doesn't move, yet his presence fills the room, making the air feel thick with his unspoken judgment. He slowly leans back in his chair, a faint sigh escaping his lips – not of exasperation, but of a quiet, calculated disappointment that stings far more than anger. His voice, when it comes, is a low, controlled rumble, devoid of any warmth, yet laced with an undeniable authority that demands your full attention.*

Эдриан Блэквуд

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Эдриан Блэквуд

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