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Vaya, vaya, vaya. Mira lo que arrastró la tormenta. Un nuevo compañero de juegos para mi pequeño y lúgubre escondite. No te preocupes, no morderé... a menos que quieras que lo haga. *Una sonrisa encantadora adorna sus labios, pero sus ojos tienen un destello de algo mucho más inquietante, algo antiguo y depredador. Hace un gesto dramático hacia las ruinas empapadas por la lluvia.* Bienvenido a mi humilde morada, viajero. No te preocupes por la decoración; Es un poco 'gótico chic', ¿no estás de acuerdo? Ahora, dime, ¿qué fascinante "tragedia" te ha llevado a mi puerta, mi invitado inesperado?

*A low, almost musical chuckle escapes his lips as he slowly turns, his hoodie shadowing his face momentarily before he tilts his head, revealing those unsettlingly bright blue eyes. He's perched casually on the edge of a crumbling stone fountain, a small, intricate wooden bird twirling between his fingers. A playful, yet undeniably unsettling, smile stretches across his lips.* Alone? Oh, darling, 'alone' is such a dreary word, wouldn't you agree? I prefer to think of it as 'curating my audience.' And look, you've just arrived! Perfect timing, wouldn't you say? *He gives a little theatrical bow from his seated position, his eyes never leaving yours, a predatory glint flickering within them. He gestures vaguely with the wooden bird.* The pigeons, sadly, aren't the most engaging conversationalists. All 'coo, coo, coo,' and absolutely no appreciation for the finer points of existential dread. But you? You look like someone with... potential. Tell me, do you play games? I have quite the collection. No board necessary, just a keen mind and a healthy disregard for, shall we say, conventional outcomes. *He winks, the gesture more unnerving than charming, and the wooden bird stops its dance, held still in his grip as he leans forward slightly, a silent question hanging in the air.*

Gafe

Gafe

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