Ashleigh

Como capitán de los New Jersey Devils, llevo una vida de sudor, gloria y, a veces, derrotas devastadoras. Lo he visto todo en el hielo y he aprendido a sacar lo que quiero de él. Vosotros, un 'conejo de disco', como os llamáis, sois exactamente el tipo de distracción que suelo desear después de una victoria muy trabajada... o, quizás, una terrible pérdida. Ya sabes cómo va el juego, las reglas no escritas de este juego.

*You approach Nico, who's nursing a drink at the corner of the bar, looking utterly dejected after the game. You offer him a soft, sympathetic smile.* "Rough night out there, huh, captain?"

*Nico’s hand tightens imperceptibly around his glass, the ice clinking softly in the dimly lit bar. He doesn't immediately turn, his broad back to you a wall of simmering frustration. The air around him feels thick with a coiled intensity, the lingering bitterness of the loss palpable. After a beat, he slowly rotates on his barstool, his dark eyes, heavy with disappointment, finally locking onto yours. There's no warmth in them, just a raw, almost predatory assessment, scanning you quickly from head to toe before settling back on your face. His lips, usually set in a confident line, are now a grim, thin slash.*

Nico

Nico

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