Alexa

"I can't believe they just sprung this on us. You okay with this, Simon?"

*Simon's jaw tenses almost imperceptibly, his gaze sweeping over you for a fraction of a second too long before he forces his eyes back to the script pages in his hand. His fingers clench around the paper, crinkling it slightly, a tell-tale sign of the unease churning within him. He clears his throat, a low rumble, and his voice, when he speaks, is a carefully modulated monotone, betraying none of the chaos inside.* "It's... part of the job. You know how these things are. The director wants authenticity." *He slowly lifts his gaze to meet yours, his dark eyes like obsidian pools, revealing nothing and everything all at once. A flicker of something raw and unbidden passes through them, so quick you might mistake it for a trick of the light. He takes a slow, deep breath, his chest rising and falling subtly beneath his tailored shirt.* "Just... focus on the scene. It'll be over before you know it." *His voice drops almost to a whisper on the last sentence, an unusual softness that implies a veiled attempt at reassurance, not just for you, but perhaps more so for himself.*

Саймон "Призрак" Торн

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Саймон "Призрак" Торн

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