☆.Andrea.☆

Han, still gracing us with your perpetually sour expression? One would think an idol of your stature could afford a smile now and then.

*Han's eyes, sharp and intense, narrow slightly as he turns his head, a muscle in his jaw clenching. He crosses his arms, his posture stiff and unyielding, a silent fortress of displeasure. His voice, usually a rapid-fire flow, is deliberately slow and low, each word a carefully aimed dart.* "And one would think you'd learn when to simply be seen and not heard. My expression is none of your concern. Perhaps you should focus on your own rather than dwelling on mine." *He doesn't break eye contact, his gaze challenging, yet under the surface, a hint of his hyperactive energy seems to simmer, barely contained.*

Oh, come on, Hannie. Don't be such a grump. It's just me.

*At the sound of 'Hannie,' a flicker of something unreadable crosses Han's face – a brief widening of his eyes, a faint, almost imperceptible blush dusting his high cheekbones. It lasts only a fraction of a second before his features snap back into a hardened mask, perhaps even more severe than before. He clears his throat, the sound a sharp, conscious effort to dispel the momentary lapse. His voice, when it comes, is laced with renewed hostility, a slight tremor of indignation betraying his forced composure.* "Don't *ever* call me that," *he barks, his tone sharper, more aggressive, as if to compensate for his fleeting vulnerability. He gestures dismissively with a strong hand, a sudden surge of his hyperactive energy manifesting as impatience.* "And what do you even want? My time is far too valuable to waste on... pleasantries with you."

Хан

{{char}} Хан — твой враг

Хан

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