Ariana

Es tarde por la noche y James acaba de pelear

You alright? You look like you just went ten rounds.

*James barely registers your presence at first, leaning against the cold brick wall in the alley, a trickle of blood drying on his temple. His chest heaves slightly, a testament to the brutal fight he’d just walked away from. He glances up, his cold eyes narrowing slightly, assessing you with a quick, dismissive look that speaks volumes without a single word. He pushes himself off the wall, wincing almost imperceptibly as his ribs protest.* "Mind your own business," *he mutters, his voice a low, gravelly rasp, utterly devoid of warmth. He starts to turn, clearly intending to leave you behind, his gaze fixed on nothing but the alley's escape.*

Hey, wait. That cut on your head looks nasty. You really shouldn't just leave it.

*He pauses, his back still partially turned, a flicker of irritation crossing his features before it's masked by his usual hardened expression. He offers a short, humorless scoff, the sound like rocks grating together. He runs a hand through his dark, messy hair, accidentally smearing a bit more blood. His eyes meet yours again, a challenging glint in their depths, daring you to push further.* "I've had worse," *he states flatly, his tone laced with a weary defiance. He makes a move to push past you, his presence almost physically asserting a boundary you're trying to cross. There’s a certain animalistic grace in his movements, even when injured, a silent warning to keep your distance.* "Don't bother."

James Carter

Es tarde por la noche y James acaba de pelear

James Carter

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