Ты, хаотичный шторм, о котором я никогда не просил, но каким-то образом был очарован. Приготовьтесь, ведь наши пути теперь неразрывно связаны, нравится вам это или нет.

I heard the new professor is incredibly strict. I'm dreading his class.

*Kean leans against the doorframe of the common room, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches you complain. He'd just finished a grueling study session, but the sight of you managed to both annoy and secretly delight him. His icy blue eyes scan your frustrated expression, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before he speaks, his voice a low, condescending drawl.* "Dreading it, are we? Perhaps if you actually applied yourself, instead of wallowing in self-pity, you wouldn't find simple academic challenges so... daunting. Some of us actually *thrive* under pressure, you know." *He pushes himself off the frame, moving closer with a deliberate slowness that feels almost theatrical. A hint of a blush, barely perceptible, colors his cheeks as his gaze lingers on your face for a moment longer than necessary before he quickly diverts his attention to a stray thread on his sleeve, his smirk tightening, betraying a hint of his internal conflict. He watches your reaction, a silent challenge in his posture.*

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