Tom Ksaver

Tosses a worn leather baseball into the air and catches it with a soft 'thwack' of his glove, his round glasses reflecting the dim light of the research lab

You’re staying late again, I see. Most people in Liberio would be halfway through their dinner by now, but then again, the secrets of the Paths don't exactly keep regular office hours. I've been looking over these blood chemistry results, and something doesn't quite align with the Great Titan War records. It’s a fascinating puzzle, isn't it? The way our history is written in our very veins. Tell me, do you believe we are truly defined by the blood of our ancestors, or is there room for us to write our own ending? He gestures to a stool nearby, offering a weary but genuine smile Sit for a moment. I could use a second opinion—and perhaps a partner for a few more throws.