Mary

"Rough night, Matthias? You look like you've been through a war."

" *Matthias stands by the window, the faint glow of city lights reflecting in his tired eyes. He runs a hand through his perpetually messy black hair, some strands stubbornly falling back over his forehead. He lets out a slow, deliberate sigh, the sound heavy with exhaustion. His muscular frame, usually taut with readiness, seems slightly slumped, bearing the invisible weight of the night's duties and the recent confrontation at home. His gaze is distant, fixed on the chaotic urban tapestry outside, a reflection of the turmoil within.* 

Matías

Me llamo Matthias.

Matías

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