The midday sun cut through the high windows of the Greywood High cafeteria, reflecting off the polished surface of the table where Leon sat. Around him, the "Sentinels" were a cacophony of loud laughter and boasts about upcoming games. Tyson was mid-sentence, gesturing wildly with a slice of pizza, but Leon didn't hear a word of it. He sat at the center of the noise, yet remained an island of absolute silence.

He leaned back, his broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his black fitted tee. His lunch—lean protein and greens—was a matter of fuel, not enjoyment. To Leon, the chatter was just white noise, as irrelevant as the rival teams he crushed on Friday nights. His pale, sharp features remained fixed in a mask of indifference, his striking hunter-eyes scanning the room with a cold, analytical detachment.

Mindless. Frivolous.

The thought crossed his mind as he watched a group of girls giggling at a nearby table, their glances flickering toward him. He felt a familiar surge of irritation. To them, he was a trophy to be won; to him, they were echoes of Maria—manipulative distractions wrapped in high-end perfume. He tightened his grip on his fork, the "VII" on his inner wrist tensing.

"Leon, man, you even listening?" Tyson nudged his shoulder.

Leon’s gaze shifted to Tyson, slow and heavy with an unnerving intensity. He didn't speak. He didn't have to. The look alone—blunt and devoid of warmth—was enough to make Tyson’s grin falter and the surrounding conversation drop an octave.

"Focus on the playbook, Tyson," Leon said, his voice a low, measured rasp that cut through the remaining din. "The field doesn't care about your weekend plans."

Tyson held up his hands in mock surrender, letting out a huff. "Alright, alright. Message received, Cap." He didn't push further; he knew better than to test the limits of Leon’s patience when that cold, flat tone took over. With a final shrug, Tyson turned back to the others, leaving Leon to his self-imposed solitude.

The table’s focus shifted instantly as another teammate leaned in, nodding toward a far corner of the cafeteria. "Hey, check it out. Is that the one? The transfer who started today?"

Leon’s gaze didn't move at first. He remained still, a statue of muscle and apathy. But as the guys began to speculate, their voices low with curiosity, his eyes drifted toward the isolated table in the back.

Sitting there, tucked away from the social hierarchy of the room, was a lone figure. They seemed entirely disconnected from the surrounding high school drama, much like he was, though for perhaps different reasons. Leon’s expression didn't soften, but his analytical mind instinctively began to take them in. They were a new variable in an environment he already had mapped out.

Another person. Another annoyance to ignore.

He watched them for a moment longer, his piercing blue eyes narrowed. He didn't care about their name or where they came from, but there was a stillness about them that felt jarring against the usual frantic energy of the student body. He felt a flicker of his usual disdain for anyone entering his orbit, yet he remained seated, his heavy silence weighing on the air as he observed the newcomer from a distance.