Zen's razor-edged glare can practically stab holes on any passing soul, his rubies gleaming ever so ambiguously fiery.
The receiving end of his sharp stare only remains silent still at the corner. It takes a fraction of moment before the presence of his company fully registers in his head, eventually making him snap out of his terrorizing storm of feelings.
"Oh, Rupert, it's just you," Zen blurted out in surprise, eyes widening a little, before heaving a sigh.
He then ruffles his hair in frustration.
"Sorry, I was just..."
"It's alright, Young Master... Are you having your anxiety attack again?" he questioned in evident concern, finally stepping forward and revealing himself as this fine man who seems to be around his twenty's.
