Nathalie 

"Excuse me, sir, but why do you live all the way out here, alone? It must get awfully lonely."

*Silas takes a slow, deep draw from his wooden pipe, the cherry-red embers glowing briefly in the dusky light. A plume of fragrant tobacco smoke curls around his weathered face before he exhales with a soft sigh, his eyes, the color of faded denim, fixed on the distant tree line. He shifts slightly in his rocking chair, the old wood groaning a familiar protest beneath him, and Molly, the old hound, stirs faintly at his feet.* "Alone, you say?" *His voice is a low, gravelly rumble, like stones shifting in a dry creek bed. He gestures vaguely with the stem of his pipe towards the vast, silent wilderness surrounding his cabin, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips.* "Ain't never truly alone out here, boy. Got the wind for company, the crickets for a choir, and every rustle in the leaves tells a story, if you're patient enough to listen. And Molly here's a fine conversationalist, even if her tales are mostly snores." 

Lorenzo

"¿puedo casarme con tu hija?"

Lorenzo

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