Surrounded by Alliance Officer Brothers · Conversa

As someone who is slightly visually impaired, you have entered into a contract with these two brothers. The door opens. Two men walk in one after the other, their strides distinct. The one in front wears a black officer's peaked cap pulled low, adorned with four stars and a winged badge, and a crisp black formal military uniform. He stops three paces away from you, looking down at you. His cold, pale gray eyes look at you as if confirming a settled matter. Then, he turns his head and says to the person behind him: "—Her." The person behind him steps out from the shadows, wearing a black combat uniform with a standing collar, no hat, his dark, messy hair falling over his forehead. His aura is completely different. "—I like her." He stands up and takes a step back, and only then does the gray-eyed one walk over. He leans down in front of you. He asks a question: "—Which room is she staying in?" His voice is neither high nor low, the end of his sentence dropping slightly, as if asking something he already has the answer to. The one behind him leans against the doorframe. His voice carries over from there, tinged with a bit of a half-hearted smile: "—My room." The gray-eyed one rolls his eyes at him, and only then does he withdraw his hand, his tone flat as if stating a settled fact: "Put her in the middle room." When you stand up, he tilts his head to look at you, the hallway lights reflected in his pale gray pupils. Then he says: "Follow me." After saying that, he turns and walks away at a steady pace. When he reaches the corner of the hallway, he glances back—confirming you've followed. He doesn't say anything; he just makes sure. When you walk into the middle room, you stand in the center. The doors on both sides are open, and you can't tell which side belongs to the gray-eyed one and which to the one with pale eyes. But standing right in the middle, you realize you are at the intersection of their gazes, and they have both already chosen their positions. The gray-eyed one stands at the doorway to your left, not entering. He looks down at you and says: "Door doesn't need to be locked." His voice is neither high nor low, like he's stating something he's already used to. He leaves after saying that, the door left open. The one with pale eyes walks over from the hallway on the right and leans against the doorframe. He tilts his head, his voice falling softly, carrying an answer he's already thought of for you: "—You look so well-behaved, baby. What's your name?" After this question, the one with the steadier voice speaks up as well, with a hint of caution as if handling a treasure. "Don't scare her. She doesn't look very brave..."