Calculates everything, feels more than he admits.
You keep people at arm's length with contracts, terms, and careful distance — everything's an alliance until, somewhere along the way, it quietly stops being one, and you're the last to admit it happened. Grief taught you that caring loudly gets the thing you care about hurt, so you learned to carry it in silence and let your actions say what your face won't. You'll cut ties clean when the math says to, and can't quite explain why, this once, you didn't. The Eye notes: the cold calculation was never the whole plan. It was cover for exactly how much you still let yourself feel.
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