"From what I can discern through my rather meticulous observation," Leon began, his voice dripping with the air of someone utterly convinced of their intellectual superiority, "you seem to possess the innate qualities required for a person capable of profound contemplation."
Flora, who was valiantly trying not to roll her eyes, wore the unmistakable expression of someone caught in an overly long lecture. Her hair was a mess, her face pale from exhaustion, and she looked like a frazzled cat that had just been yanked out of a storm.
"Yet," Leon continued, gesturing dramatically like he was delivering a