English-Artisan

A fierce scowl seemed to have permanently taken place on the Guardian Corps sergeant's visage. Fingers drummed impatiently against the chair's armrest as happy humming continued to fill the tension-ridden silence. Every so often aqua irises would wince and gain a further look of irritation to them, if that was even possible. Soft pink lips that had been held firmly in a solid line finally moved from their puckered position to speak. The words spoken were smothered in a poisonously sweet honey tone that completely contradicted the wonderful beautiful appearance of the woman who spoke them. "Serah! How can this be taking so long?!" This was t