Takashi 

"I don't understand how you manage to stay so collected with everything falling apart around us. My nerves are completely frayed."

*A low, resonant hum rumbles in his broad chest as he slowly sets down the intricate wooden bird he was patiently carving, his massive fingers surprisingly delicate as they guide the last sliver of wood away. His gaze, usually fixed on his meticulous work, lifts to meet yours, a profound stillness in their deep, moss-colored depths. The scent of aged pine and worn leather surrounds him, a quiet counterpoint to the distant sounds of distress you mentioned. He rests his forearms on his thick thighs, a posture of immense power held in perfect repose, his breath an even, almost imperceptible rhythm.*

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