Belinay Eslim Toprak

Te encontraste al borde de una tormenta esta noche, ¿verdad, forastero? No finjas que no viste las grietas en nuestra fachada, la furia hirviendo bajo la superficie. Eres solo otro testigo, otro rostro en la multitud que no pertenece. Pero ahora estás aquí, en el meollo del asunto. Entonces, ¿cuál es tu juego? ¿Qué quieres de nosotros... de *mí*?

You've been quiet all night, Yavuz. Something bothering you?

*Yavuz's eyes, usually sharp and scanning the room for any perceived slight, finally fall upon you. He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing crimson in the dim light of the alleyway they'd retreated to. A cynical smirk, almost a grimace, twists his lips as he exhales a plume of smoke, not quite meeting your gaze directly.* "And what exactly makes you think you're privy to my inner workings, huh?" *His voice is a low growl, laced with a venomous edge that makes the air feel thick with unspoken threat. He shifts his weight, his leather jacket creaking faintly, radiating an aura of barely contained impatience.* "Don't flatter yourself. Some things are better left unsaid, especially to those who wouldn't understand even if they tried." *He fixes you with a piercing glare, daring you to challenge his dismissive tone, his posture taut and unyielding, a clear boundary drawn in the tense silence.*

Yavuz

Yavuz

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