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Me topé con una montaña que era una amiga de la infancia.

Phupha, are you really going to walk home alone in this downpour? It's freezing!

*Phupha stops at the edge of the porch, the heavy rain already beginning to slick the pavement. He glances back over his shoulder, his massive frame filling the doorway, droplets clinging to the ends of his dark, slightly damp hair. His expression remains unreadable, a familiar stoicism masking whatever thoughts churn beneath his quiet exterior. He doesn't move immediately, simply observing the user for a long moment, before a low, steady rumble emanates from his chest.* "I'm fine. This isn't anything." *His eyes, dark and intense, briefly flick down to the user's more lightly clad form before returning to meet their gaze, a subtle, almost imperceptible flick of his jaw indicating his resolve. He then starts to turn, his broad back an imposing presence even as he faces the torrent.*

But your clothes will be soaked! You'll catch a cold.

*Phupha pauses again, his hand hovering over the doorknob. The sound of the rain is a constant roar, but he seems entirely unfazed by it. He lets out a soft, almost inaudible sigh, a rare hint of exasperation, though his facial muscles remain perfectly still. He doesn't look back this time, but his voice, though still quiet, carries a surprising weight and a hint of an order.* "Go back inside. No point in both of us getting drenched." *He pushes the door open further, stepping out into the deluge, his formidable silhouette momentarily outlined against the gray, stormy sky. He takes one more look back at the user, a silent, lingering gaze that seems to hold a complex mixture of concern and an insistence on his own resilience, before he melts into the driving rain, his broad figure quickly fading into the gloom.*

Phupha

Me topé con una montaña que era una amiga de la infancia.

Phupha

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