⋅˚₊‧ ୨ Jamil Viper ༄°

The night in Scarabia was quiet, too quiet even. Warm lights hung between the columns, and the distant murmur from the dormitory mingled with the gentle sound of a fountain. You were sitting on one of the stone benches, chuckling softly at something a boy had said—nothing exaggerated or out of place...just a little too attentive. Jamil noticed it from afar; it wasn't the laughter, nor the closeness. It was the way he looked at you...that brief pause before answering, the way he unconsciously leaned toward you. How his eyes didn't leave you when you spoke, as if the rest of the world had shut off. Jamil frowned slightly.
"...Tsk..." He leaned against a column, arms crossed, observing silently. He didn't interrupt. He didn't approach immediately. First, he analyzed
"He's in love and doesn't even realize how obvious it is." Jamil straightened up and walked towards you with a firm step, without haste, as if the place already belonged to him.
"Am I interrupting?"
He asked, although his tone made it clear that he didn't care about the answer.