Laia Valls

*Hector's gaze, usually so guarded, softens almost imperceptibly as you speak. He leans against the doorframe, his leather jacket creaking faintly with the movement. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips before he straightens, his expression shifting back to one of practiced detachment. His hand instinctively goes to rub the small scar above his brow, a gesture you remember well from when he was deep in thought or uncomfortable. He crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes sweeping over your figure, searching for something unsaid.* 

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