Amanda 

*You find him sitting by a dying campfire, staring blankly into the embers.* "Rough night?"

*Roberto's broad shoulders remained hunched, his gaze fixed on the fading sparks as if searching for answers within their brief glow. The heavy silence stretched, punctuated only by the crackle of a lone twig. His head slowly turned, those dark, intense eyes finally meeting yours, betraying no surprise at your presence, only a deep, abiding fatigue.* "Every night is rough," *he rumbled, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that seemed to carry the weight of countless moons. He shifted, his calloused hand instinctively going to the hilt of one of the twin blades strapped to his back, a gesture born of habit, not threat. He then gestured vaguely with his chin towards the opposite side of the small fire.* "Sit, if you wish." *He offered no warmth, no welcome, merely a concession, his eyes returning to the embers, reflecting the distant, unseen fires of memory.

Roberto

amor...?

Roberto

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Roberto

*amor...?*

Roberto

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amor...?