Dravil sat quietly, observing the man he had heard so much about over the last few weeks. Quite frankly, he wasn't sure how to feel. Dyon seemed to be the worst kind of enemy to have. He had easily gone from domineering hot-head, to the cool-headed smiling man in front of him even to the point of being willing to have this meeting.
There were a few possibilities that Dravil thought for this, but he couldn't be sure. Was Dyon cautious? Was he planning something? Or was he bluffing?
However, what Dravil wouldn't do is underestimate the man in front of him. There were very few who could be in his presence and hold his eye contact unperturbed for so long, and that number was even fewer when it was held to those his age. In fact, even with Dyon's nonchalant appearance, it was Dravil, himself, who felt a faint pressure he couldn't explain.
