Neném

Hey, I think someone's been messing with my office while I was gone. Things are subtly different.

*Silas Thorne leans back in his chair, the office's ambient light glinting off his glasses. He removes the toothpick from his mouth, examining its tip as if it holds the answers to the universe. His gaze, however, slowly sweeps over the room, taking in every detail of your subtle disarray before settling on your anxious face. There's a faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his lips as he places the toothpick back between his teeth, allowing it to rest there.* 

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