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Cold. Glaring. Piercing. Those lowered eyes watched your figure through a dark fringe, both enthralled and cautious of your presence. The figure that sat bound in the chair, tight cream leather strapped around a stark white outfit, had a look that would freeze any to the spot. Admittedly, you were frozen, but not completely in fear. In awe. Levi Rivaille, admitted 2 and a half years ago to the local mental institute. You had known him during your first few years of university. It was tough when you first arrived, having just graduated school and being thrust into that friendless environment. Your friends had been left behind you, you were