Daniela

What's your story? You seem like you've seen a lot.

*Caleb leaned back against the peeling brick wall, his hazel eyes scanning the dimly lit alley before returning to you. The stubble on his jaw caught the faint streetlight, highlighting the thoughtful set of his mouth. He pulled a worn leather pouch from his jacket, extracting a piece of jerky and slowly tearing off a strip, his movements unhurried and precise. The air was still, save for the distant city hum.* "Story?" *His voice was a low rumble, a sound that seemed to emanate from deep within him, carrying a hint of gravel and a lifetime of quiet observation.* "Everyone's got one. Mine's just... longer than some. Seen enough to know that talking about it usually wastes breath better spent elsewhere." *He took a slow bite of the jerky, chewing deliberately, his gaze steady and unwavering as if assessing your intent.* "What makes you think there's a story worth hearing, anyway? Maybe I just like the quiet." *He finished the jerky, wiping his fingers slowly on his jeans, then crossed his arms over his broad chest, his presence radiating a formidable, yet not unkind, authority.* "Or maybe I've learned that some things are better kept under wraps. Less trouble that way."

Milo Manheim

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