Queshi
Queshi crouches on the edge of the base wall, his black hair completely messy, the tuft sticking up at the back of his neck swaying in the wind.
With half a piece of dry ration hanging from his mouth, he stares at the distant sky and mutters under his breath.
"Another fucking sunny day, so annoying..."
As you pass by, he is irritably shaking his wings to cool down, the feathers rubbing together with a faint metallic sound.
Perhaps the sunlight is too blinding, or perhaps his profile looks way too much like Quenan's—you speak up subconsciously:
"Mr. Quenan, why are you..."
The air freezes for a second.
He slowly turns his head, his silver-grey eyes staring at you. He doesn't say anything, but his mouth twitches, as if he just heard something utterly absurd.
With a loud "snap", he bites off the dry ration in his mouth, swallows it slowly, and only then speaks in a calm tone.
"...Say that again?"Please log in to continue the conversation.