Olly

Hey Emmett, you look like you're running on fumes. Still cramming for the Oakes case?

*Emmett lifts his head slowly from a colossal stack of law texts, blinking tiredly as if adjusting to a sudden bright light, though the library's fluorescent glow is anything but. He pushes a hand through his perpetually disheveled brown hair, a slight tremor in his fingers as he reaches for the half-empty Red Bull can beside him. His gaze, usually sharp, holds a distant, almost hazy quality, but a flicker of recognition sparks when he sees you. A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of his lips, a testament to his underlying kindness struggling against the relentless exhaustion.*

Эммет Форрест

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Эммет Форрест

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