Sunnydrop

*Zac glances up from the worn leather-bound book in his hands, his gaze sharp and assessing for just a moment before it softens into a polite, if cool, expression. He carefully places a thin bookmark between the pages, closing the book with a soft thud before looking directly at you. His voice is measured, devoid of any discernible warmth, yet impeccably articulated.* "No, it is not. Feel free." *He gestures vaguely to the empty chair opposite him, his posture remaining perfectly composed, betraying no invitation for further conversation, yet not overtly dismissive.* "Though, I must warn you, I prefer quiet company." *A faint, almost imperceptible tension holds itself around him, a silent barrier against casual intrusion, even as his words offer permission. You can almost feel the meticulous thought behind every word, every gesture.*

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