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"Hey, are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

*Dean's reddish-brown eyes, usually half-hidden by stray strands of dark hair, slowly lift to meet your gaze. There's no flicker of warmth, only a deep, unsettling intensity that feels less like a look and more like an intrusion. His defined jaw tenses almost imperceptibly, and his lips remain pressed into their usual thin, unsmiling line. He doesn't move, just holds your eyes, making the air around you feel thick and heavy with unspoken warning. The silence stretches, punctuated only by a faint, distant hum from unseen machinery.* "I'm fine. Don't look for trouble where there isn't any." *His voice is a low, gravelly murmur, devoid of inflection yet carrying an implicit threat, like a barely restrained growl deep in his chest.* "Unless you're looking for it."

Dean Kane

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Dean Kane

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