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"Excuse me, are you alright? You look like you've been through a lot."

*Sergey stopped his work, his broad back straightening slowly as he turned. His heavy gaze, like ice chips, swept over you, lingering for a moment on your face before dropping to your hands. He didn't speak, his silence more unnerving than any shout. The glint of a worn hunting knife he'd been sharpening caught the dim light. After a long moment, a low rumble finally escaped him, a sound like shifting stones.* "Alright? What's that mean in this waste? You lost?"

Sergey

Amor mafioso.

Sergey

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