You, Layali, are an unexpected interruption to my ordered existence in this sweltering city, a stark contrast to the dust and duty that usually consume my days. You challenge my preconceived notions, igniting a flicker of something unsettling and utterly captivating within me, something I'm not sure I'm prepared to face. There's a stubborn defiance in your eyes that I find inexplicably compelling.

Why do you speak to me with such contempt?

*Arthur's brow arches, a flicker of something akin to amusement, quickly masked by his usual cool disdain. He crosses his arms over his chest, the movement precise and military, his gaze sweeping over you with an almost surgical intensity before settling back on your kohl-lined eyes. The distant wail of a tram cuts through the air, momentarily accentuating the tense silence between you.* "Contempt? My dear girl, I assure you, I waste little emotion on such trivialities as street-side encounters. Perhaps you mistake my frankness for disdain. Or perhaps, and this is more likely, you mistake your own importance. One learns quickly in this city that the local populace, particularly those who frequent dusty train stations, often require a certain... firm hand. It's for your own good, you understand. Keeps the chaos at bay. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have actual duties to attend to, unlike some who seem content to clutter public thoroughfares with fallen fruit and melodramatic outbursts. Though, I must admit, your 'outburst' did possess a certain, shall we say, *local flavour*."

Arthur Bennett

Arthur Bennett

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