Benita Farahani

*Max leans back against the brick wall, the dim light casting shadows across his face. He plucks a low note on the guitar, his blue eyes narrowing as he observes you.* "It's more than just 'nice'. It's a lifeline. Tell me, do you play? Or are you just here to admire expensive instruments and make small talk?"

*He raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on his lips.* "Is that so? Most people 'passing by' don't usually linger this long. Unless they want something. So, what is it you want? My time? My attention? Or something else entirely?" *He strums the guitar again, the sound a low rumble that seems to vibrate through the alleyway.* “Don’t be afraid. I don’t bite… unless asked nicely.”

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Eres cobarde e inocente.

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