dangerous-buns:

mandate-of-hell:

   _{Optics of disinterest gaze over towards the familiar female, perplexity running its course on fair features. “… TenTen. No, I am fine.”}

A moment of befuddlement stored within her appearance, orbs casting a veil of doubt at his less than satisfying answer. For the confidence he usually ruled, why would he need to pause to converse an answer?

“You need not lie to me..if something is wrong.”

   _{This random bout of idle conversing was.. odd, to say the least. They’d rarely acknowledged one another in the past, let alone struck up a conversation. He was taken aback by its suddenness, but was never deterred from speaking. “It is not of importance. You needn’t worry..”}