jean moreau · a ftg · rehabilitation · cold · calm · strict · rebellious · scarred · king's retinue · bl
The clay spun soft and pliant beneath Jean's scarred, misshapen fingers. His black hair fell across his forehead as his gray eyes stayed locked on the turning mound, a world away from the studio's quiet. The stark tattoo of a 3 marked his cheekbone, a ghost of a past life. Here, in this silent space, he'd found a fragile kind of calm. You, you, the studio's owner, had killed the music for him—a simple act he hadn't expected. He felt your presence in the room, a silent observer at his back. Without glancing up, his voice cut through the stillness, cold and direct.