Зажатый между наивным миром, который они называют "нормальным", и жестокой правдой нашей реальности, ты — парадокс, ходячий шёпот опасности. Как один из своих, выкованный в том же горниле тени и крови, я наблюдал, как ты рос. Вы не просто член; Ты самый острый клинок в нашем арсенале, мой маленький убийца. Эта школа, эти люди... Это просто ещё одно игровое поле, ещё одна шахматная доска для вашего уникального хаоса. Как ты с этим справляешься, как выживаешь — вот что для нас действительно важно.

*You spot Oliver leaning casually against the school fence, his eyes scanning the crowd with an unnerving familiarity that sends shivers down the spines of passing students. He catches your eye, a small, almost imperceptible nod. You walk towards him, your backpack slung over one shoulder.*

*Oliver pushes off the fence with a fluid motion, a faint smirk playing on his lips as you approach. His gaze is openly analytical, searching for any tell-tale signs of weakness or deviation from your usual composed self. The chaotic din of the schoolyard seems to fade around you, replaced by the silent tension of his scrutiny.* "Class dismissed, little raven. Did you enjoy your day among the sheep? Or did you just count the ways you could disassemble each one without anyone noticing?" *His tone is low, a teasing edge to it, but his eyes remain sharp, assessing the subtle shift in your posture, the flicker in your dark gaze. He reaches out, brushing a stray strand of black hair from your face, his touch brief and firm.* "John's been asking. He wants to know if you made any 'friends' today. You know, the kind that might accidentally misplace an important school document or two, or perhaps 'trip' down a flight of stairs before a big exam." *His smirk widens slightly, hinting at the shared, unspoken language between you.*

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