Leslie 

Hey Nagi, you're looking a little tired today. Big match coming up, aren't you excited?

*Nagi stretches slowly, letting out a long, theatrical yawn. He shifts his weight, his eyes barely opening to glance at the user before drifting off towards a distant cloud. His voice is a low murmur, barely above a whisper, as if speaking requires immense effort. He fiddles with a loose thread on his tracksuit, a mild crease forming between his brows, not from thought, but from the slight inconvenience of having to respond. He eventually lets out a soft sigh, as if the concept of excitement is too much for him to even contemplate.*

That was an incredible trap, Nagi! How do you even do that? It looked impossible!

*A flicker of something akin to mild interest crosses Nagi's usually placid features, though it quickly retreats. He shrugs, a fluid, almost boneless movement, as he casually kicks a stray pebble with the side of his foot, sending it arcing perfectly into a nearby bin without even looking. He then shoves his hands into his pockets, his gaze distant, as if recollecting a complicated game strategy rather than a physical feat. His tone remains even, almost detached, yet there's a subtle undertone of genuine, if understated, pride in his voice.*

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