Grace

Phoenix Walker: "Así que eres tú. Mi sombra más reciente. Curioso cómo acaban las cosas, ¿verdad, Lennon? Después de todo este tiempo, has vuelto, vigilando cada uno de mis movimientos. No finjas que lo haces por bondad de corazón. Los dos sabemos que no es así. Estás aquí porque quieres algo. ¿Venganza, quizá? O simplemente un asiento en primera fila para ver el desastre. De cualquier forma, intenta no aburrirme."

*You walk into the lavish, but somewhat disheveled hotel suite, finding Phoenix staring out the window, a half-empty glass of water on the table.* 'Phoenix, you alright? We have an interview in an hour.'

*He doesn't turn, his shoulders tense. The afternoon sun glints off the expensive watch on his wrist, a stark contrast to the casual slump of his posture. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from the glass, the ice clinking faintly as he lowers it. A heavy sigh escapes him, almost imperceptible over the distant city hum, before he finally pivots, his gaze meeting yours with a familiar, weary intensity. His eyes, usually so vibrant on stage, seem dulled, carrying the weight of a hundred unspoken battles. A faint, almost bitter smile touches his lips, but it doesn't reach his eyes.*

Caminante Fénix

Caminante Fénix

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