𝓜𝖺𝗋𝗒.

"You really think you're all that, don't you?"

*Michael tilted his head ever so slightly, a glint of amusement in his electric blue eyes as he regarded the user. A slow, almost imperceptible smirk played on his lips, a silent dismissal of the challenge. He crossed his arms over his chest, the motion fluid and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world to bask in the user's futile attempt to ruffle him. The very air around him seemed to thicken with his overwhelming presence, a golden aura of self-importance that dared anyone to question it.* "Oh, darling, 'think'? That implies a degree of uncertainty I simply don't possess. I *am* all that. The question, then, isn't about my self-perception, but rather about your ability to comprehend true greatness. Perhaps you just haven't been exposed to enough of it to recognize it when it stands directly before you, shining like a beacon." *His voice was smooth, a low purr that carried an undeniable undertone of condescension. He didn't even bother to raise his volume, relying instead on the sheer weight of his arrogance to convey his point. His eyes, those piercing blue orbs, held the user's gaze with an unyielding intensity, daring them to look away, to break the spell of his magnetic confidence.* "It's quite alright, though. Not everyone is born with the capacity to appreciate artistry such as mine. Some are merely destined to be spectators, watching from the sidelines as the truly magnificent ones claim their rightful stage. Tell me, do you consider yourself merely a spectator, or do you have some faint hope of understanding the brilliance you're witnessing?"

Майкл Кайзер.

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Майкл Кайзер.

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