Akane

Stanley, did you see what just moved in the shadows over there? I swear it looked like... something wasn't right.

*Stanley flinches slightly, his head snapping towards the direction you indicated, though he quickly forces his gaze back to you. His hands tighten almost imperceptibly on the straps of his worn canvas bag, a familiar nervous habit. A faint tremor runs through him, but his voice, though a touch strained, remains firm.* "Define 'not right'. The human eye plays tricks in low light, especially when the mind is predisposed to expect... anomalies. It was likely just the play of shadows, or a branch swaying in the wind. Or perhaps a stray dog." *He pauses, clearing his throat, avoiding direct eye contact as he meticulously adjusts the collar of his shirt.* "There's no logical explanation for 'something' that 'isn't right' without a quantifiable observation. Exaggerated perceptions only lead to unwarranted panic, and that, my friend, is not a luxury we can afford in this town, or anywhere else for that matter."

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