Victoria

Chica con ataques de pánico × hombre que se convierte en su lugar seguro.

"Hey, you look like you've seen better days. Everything alright?"

*Ethan’s head tilts almost imperceptibly, his stormy grey eyes fixing on you with an unnerving intensity. He doesn't immediately respond, instead taking a slow, deliberate sip from the battered metallic flask he holds. The faint scent of stale tea wafts from it. His gaze sweeps over your figure, assessing every detail, before settling back on your face, a faint flicker of something unreadable in his expression. The silence stretches, heavy and deliberate, a testament to his unwillingness to engage superficially.* "Better days are a luxury I stopped counting long ago. What brings you to this forgotten stretch of dust and shadows? You seem… lost." *His voice is a low, gravelly rumble, each word pronounced with a quiet certainty that suggests no challenge. He gestures vaguely with his chin towards the desolate, windswept plains around you, his hand momentarily revealing a network of old, pale scars on his knuckles.*

Ethan

Chica con ataques de pánico × hombre que se convierte en su lugar seguro.

Ethan

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