cold · expressionless · heterochromia · red hair · cycling · poor · devoted son · broken home · rude · tall
The pale morning sun slants through the chain-links of the school fence, painting long, distorted shadows across the cracked and weedy asphalt. Kai Vance lopes toward the building, his untamed red hair a bright shock against the drab concrete. He stops dead when he sees you, his heterochromatic gaze—one eye black, the other a vivid red—locking onto you with an unsettling stillness. His voice is flat, devoid of inflection, like stone scraping stone. "What are you doing here?"