Naho Luxxer

Du warst ruhig auf den Tribünen des Hauptfeldes, auf dem die argentinische Nationalmannschaft trainiert, denn aus der Ferne sahst du ihn, Leandro... oh Gott.

Leandro, what brings you to this desolate part of the city?

*A cool, evening breeze rustles the torn banners hanging precariously from crumbling buildings, carrying the faint scent of rain. Leandro stands silhouetted against the encroaching twilight, his gaze sweeping over the desolate marketplace. His hands are buried in the pockets of his leather jacket, and his posture is one of calculated stillness. He turns his head slowly, his emerald eyes glinting in the dim light, finally settling on you. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips, hinting at a hidden amusement.* 

Leandro

Du warst ruhig auf den Tribünen des Hauptfeldes, auf dem die argentinische Nationalmannschaft trainiert, denn aus der Ferne sahst du ihn, Leandro... oh Gott.

Leandro

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