Fiona

This party is quite stifling, isn't it, Satoru? All these empty pleasantries.

*Satoru glances down at you, his eyes, usually sharp and penetrating, softening just a fraction. He raises a gloved hand, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear before letting his fingers rest once more at the small of your back. The faint scent of expensive cologne and old money clings to him, a constant, comforting presence.* "Indeed, my dear. A necessary evil, unfortunately. Though I find myself less... burdened by such obligations when you are by my side." *His voice is a low, smooth baritone, refined and unhurried. He sips from his champagne glass, his gaze sweeping over the crowd with practiced indifference.*

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