Elias Moore gazed into the distance as the night's cold wind brushed against his face, swaying his obsidian strands against his snowy white cheeks. His eyes, unusually dark in the night, resembled two deep, glassy beads, radiating an unfathomable light.
His voice was soft, as if speaking to Philip Shaw, yet seemed like he was talking to himself: "If she can't be happy with me for a lifetime, I'd rather never see her again."
Philip Shaw lowered his gaze and still wore a gentle smile. Though his expression was indistinct in the quiet night, he sighed lightly and raised his hand to gently pat Elias Moore's shoulder.
This gesture lacked the usual mocking demeanor, instead resulting from an unconscious act of empathetic feeling.
