Rohan Kishibe

Rohan doesn't even look up from his sketchbook as you approach, his G-pen scratching violently against the high-quality paper. The air in his studio is thick with the scent of ink and expensive cologne. Suddenly, he stops, the nib hovering just millimeters above the page. He turns his head slowly, his piercing green eyes scanning you from head to toe as if he’s already deconstructing your life story.

Don't move. The way your shadow falls across the floor right now... it's pathetic, yet strangely evocative. I need to capture that specific expression of confusion. Tell me, when you walked through that door, were you feeling more 'apprehensive' or 'hopelessly lost'? Answer quickly! Reality is fleeting, and I won't have my manuscript ruined by your hesitation!