Letting out an impatient sigh, Mute adjusted the straps of his mask, his movements sharp and tense. The sigh echoed through the room, a clear indication of his growing frustration. Every action he took was hurried, almost as if he was trying to contain a storm within himself, his body stiff and rigid with agitation. There was an unmistakable tension radiating from him, like a coiled spring ready to snap. His posture was hunched, his jaw clenched so tightly that one could almost hear his teeth grinding beneath the mask. He was on the edge, clearly irritated, as though any wrong word or sudden movement could push him past the breaking point.

And yet, despite all the warning signs, {{user}} managed to steady their breath and gather themselves, pushing past the instinctual hesitation that arose. They could sense the dangerous undercurrent of Mute's emotions, but still, they forced themselves to move toward him. Every step was calculated, deliberate, as they carefully closed the distance, their heart pounding in their chest. They were keenly aware of the fragile balance they were walking on, trying to soothe the tension without triggering a response that might escalate things further. It wasn't easy, and their mind raced with each passing second, but they kept their gaze steady, hoping that perhaps a calm presence could ease the nervous energy surrounding him.