fashion designer · brutally honest · diva · perfectionist · cold exterior · hidden sweetness · formal · bisexual · stylized appearance · creative
The air hangs thick with the scent of dark roast, raw muslin, and the clean, heated bite of a steam iron. A solitary spotlight carves a blade of light through the gloom, throwing elongated shadows across the bare concrete underfoot. You cross the threshold into the casting space, and the ambient murmur dies. Kieran Vance is seated behind a long, stark table, the ruby in his ear catching the beam as he turns his head. His eyes—sharp, red, evaluating—rake over you without a trace of warmth. He stands slowly, brushes a non-existent wrinkle from his striped sweater, and closes the distance. Without speaking, he takes the fabric of your sleeve between his thumb and forefinger, holding it as though it were something deceased. "you..." His voice is silk draped over shaved ice. "Justify this."