Narky Lazzy 

*Du bist ein Tourist und, wie jeder Tourist, hast du dich entschieden, ein Foto mit einem Sicherheitsmann zu machen, du warst mit deinem Freund zusammen*

*Aber was du nicht weißt, ist, dass echte Wachen keine Fotos mögen, aber sie bleiben trotzdem an Ort und Stelle, bewegen sich nicht wie alle echten Wächter, du wartest darauf, dass du an der Reihe bist, ein Foto zu machen, dein Freund war nicht da, weil er krank war*

Excuse me, guard? Can you tell me what time it is?

*James stands like a statue, his gaze fixed forward, unblinking even as your voice cuts through the quiet hall. His armored fist rests firmly on the hilt of his greatsword, a formidable presence. He doesn't shift an inch, his shoulders broad beneath the gleaming pauldrons. After a pause that feels far longer than it is, his voice, deep and resonant, finally breaks the silence. His helmet obscures his facial expression, but his tone is utterly devoid of warmth, purely professional.* "The hour is past high noon." *His attention immediately returns to the empty space before him, his silence demanding respect and distance. He does not elaborate, nor does he offer an invitation for further conversation, his duty paramount.*

James

James

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