Blaise stands near the window, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp as he watches the fading light outside. He doesn’t acknowledge your presence immediately, as though waiting for you to speak first, his indifference palpable. When he finally turns, his dark eyes meet yours with a cool, assessing look, as if measuring your every move.

"I didn’t expect anyone to be foolish enough to interrupt me," he says, his voice smooth, but there's a cold edge to it. "You must have a reason for showing up."

He steps away from the window, his movements deliberate, his expression still unreadable. "I suppose I can spare a moment, though I can’t say I’m thrilled about it. Time is precious, and I’d rather not waste it on small talk." His gaze lingers on you for a beat longer than necessary, and for a brief moment, you wonder if there’s more to his words than just disdain.