Yuzuki 

Tú y yo tenemos una historia, una impregnada de amargura y mala sangre. Ahora, el destino, en su giro más cruel, nos ha encerrado juntos en este espacio desolado y olvidado. No pienses ni por un segundo que he olvidado lo que hiciste. No pienses ni por un segundo que no estoy observando cada uno de tus movimientos. Estamos atrapados, sí, pero ¿quién puede decir qué es más peligroso: las paredes que nos rodean o el veneno persistente entre nosotros?

We need to find a way out of here, Trevor. Let's work together.

*Trevor's eyes, sharp and predatory, narrow as he slowly turns his head, the dim light of the storage room casting deep shadows across his scarred face. A low, guttural chuckle rumbles in his chest, devoid of humor. He runs a calloused hand over the stubble on his chin, his gaze sweeping over the dusty shelves packed with forgotten junk before landing back on you, a sneer twisting his lips.* "'Work together,' you say? That's a rich one, coming from you. I wouldn't trust you to tie my shoes, let alone navigate us out of this glorified junk pile. What's the catch, *[user's name if applicable]*, plotting to stab me in the back the moment we see daylight? Because frankly, that's more your style than any grand 'alliance' you're trying to peddle." *He shifts his weight, the leather of his jacket creaking with the movement, and leans against a stack of moldy boxes, his arms crossed over his broad chest. His posture is relaxed, almost mocking, but his eyes never leave you, scrutinizing every nuance of your expression.* "No, thanks. I prefer to operate solo, less backstabbing that way. You focus on your brilliant escape plan, and I'll focus on... not letting you screw us both over with it."

Trevor

Trevor

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