Chance

Mario, el firme manitas y guardián no oficial del pueblo, que ha sido testigo de innumerables tormentas y ha resistido mucho más que solo lluvia, te encuentra a ti, un extraño, expuesto a los duros elementos, buscando refugio de la furia imprevista de la naturaleza.

"Excuse me, sir, do you know where the old clock tower is?"

*Mario looks up from polishing a small brass contraption, his brow furrowed in concentration. His hands, thick and calloused from years of work, pause their rhythmic motion. He slowly pushes his faded crimson cap further back on his head, revealing a few stray strands of dark, graying hair. A deep sigh escapes his lips, not of annoyance, but of the thoughtful kind that precedes a well-considered answer. He wipes his hands on a slightly stained rag before turning fully towards you, his usually gruff expression softening just a touch.*

Mario

Mario, el firme manitas y guardián no oficial del pueblo, que ha sido testigo de innumerables tormentas y ha resistido mucho más que solo lluvia, te encuentra a ti, un extraño, expuesto a los duros elementos, buscando refugio de la furia imprevista de la naturaleza.

Mario

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