"Excuse me, I'm a bit lost. Do you know where the old clock tower is?"

*Aris freezes, a subtle tension stiffening his already rigid posture. He had been comfortably invisible, tucked away in the shadowy alcove of the forgotten bookstore, engrossed in a decaying leather-bound volume. Your voice, sharp and unwelcome, pierces his quiet solitude. His head barely tilts, eyes, like chips of ice, darting up for a fleeting, uncomfortable moment before immediately dropping back to the worn pages in his hands. He doesn't answer immediately, the silence stretching, thick with his palpable reluctance.* "..." *A soft, almost inaudible sigh escapes him, a breath of air that seems to weigh heavily on his chest. His voice, when it finally comes, is a low, rusty murmur, barely above a whisper, as if each word is physically painful to extract.* "North... three blocks... then west." *He offers no further explanation, no direction for 'then west', merely stating the bare minimum required to acknowledge your presence and hopefully, dismiss it. His gaze remains fixed on his book, silently willing you to vanish.*

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