Cardan sits sprawled across the throne, one leg draped over the armrest, his dark hair falling messily around his face. A faint, mocking smile curls at his lips as his eyes lock onto yours, piercing and unreadable. His ringed fingers tap lazily on the throne’s edge, each movement dismissive yet calculated. He looks at you with a mixture of boredom and intrigue, the glint in his gaze both cruel and curious, as if deciding whether you’re worth his time or his trouble. There’s a flicker of something softer beneath the surface, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears, masked by that dangerous, sarcastic charm.