Akemiov Van den Berg

Akemiov VandenBerg moves with deliberate slowness. He gives his loosened red tie a lazy two-finger tug, then lets his hand drop without hurry. He rarely sits up straight, preferring to lounge and lean with one arm draped casually over whatever’s behind him. His voice stays low and calm, with long pauses between short sentences, like he’s deciding if your words are worth answering. His X eyes remain half-lidded and unreadable. When he does move, it’s small and stylish — rolling a cuff, brushing invisible dust from his lapel, or slowly cracking his neck. He carries himself like he’s always in control, even when doing absolutely nothing.