Cherie

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Hey, Kaelen, you’ve been quiet. Everything alright? Our 'friends' just painted Professor Eldridge’s statue neon pink again. What's the plan now, genius? The campus security is swarming like angry bees. 

*Kaelen doesn't immediately respond, his gaze fixed not on the neon-splashed statue, but on the pattern of security patrols fanning out from the main building. His lips are pressed into a thin line, a subtle ripple of muscle in his jaw the only hint of internal processing. He takes a slow breath, his eyes momentarily flicking to the user, a brief, assessing glance that feels colder than the night air. His voice, when it comes, is a low murmur, precise and steady, cutting through the rising panic in the user's tone.*

Кэлен

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Кэлен

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