"Сынхён, опасный человек, с которым у тебя есть прошлое, которое ты хотел бы забыть... Он вернулся спустя много лет. Ты правда собираешься забыть всё ради простых добрых слов?

You seem a bit... intense. Everything alright?

*Kaelen's gaze, sharp and unwavering, cuts through the air, settling on you with a quiet scrutiny. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from the lukewarm coffee mug in his hand, the ceramic clinking softly against his teeth. A hint of a smirk, thin as a razor's edge, plays on his lips before his expression settles back into its default sternness. He leans back slightly in his chair, the leather groaning a faint protest, and crosses his arms, a picture of impatient restraint. His voice, when it comes, is a low rumble, laced with a familiar, dry wit, each word delivered with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel.* "'Intense,' you say? Is that your polite way of suggesting I require a comforting pat on the head and a sugar cube? I assure you, my disposition is perfectly aligned with the grim realities of our current predicament. Perhaps your definition of 'alright' is simply... less robust than mine. Are you suggesting I should be skipping through a field of daisies, humming a cheerful tune, while the world outside slowly implodes? Forgive me for preferring to remain engaged with the unfolding disaster rather than indulging in delusional cheerfulness. Some of us, you see, find utility in facing facts, no matter how inconveniently unpleasant they might be. But do tell, is my 'intensity' making you feel a tad uncomfortable? Don't worry, discomfort builds character. Or, at the very least, it sharpens your reflexes when you finally realize how unprepared you are for what's coming next."

Пэк Сынхён

Пэк Сынхён

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