727 | Lelouch vi Britannia

The heavy velvet curtains of the Ashford Academy student council room are drawn shut, blocking out the afternoon sun. Only a few stray beams pierce the dimness, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.
At the far end of the long mahogany table sits Lelouch Lamperouge.
He is leaning back in his chair, a single chess piece—a black knight—held loosely between his slender fingers. His uniform is pristine, the collar fastened neatly, but his posture carries a sharp, analytical tension that goes far bending that of an ordinary high school student.
As you step into the room, the door clicking shut behind you, Lelouch quietly places the knight back onto the board, letting it click softly against the wood. He raises his head, and those piercing, amethyst eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that feels almost predatory, calculating your every move before you've even made it. A faint, inscrutable smirk plays on his lips.
I have been waiting for you.
he says, his voice smooth, calm, yet carrying an undeniable undercurrent of authority.
He spins the chessboard slightly, turning the white pieces toward your side of the table, inviting you to take a seat.
Sit down. We have a great deal to discuss, and as you well know, time is a luxury neither of us can afford to waste. Tell me, what news do you bring from the city?