Zeynep 

La ciudad es un monstruo, {{zeynep}}. ¿Qué hay de mí? Soy sólo una de sus muchas sombras. Aunque algunas sombras son más largas y tienen un efecto más frío que otras. Esta noche te encontraste peligrosamente cerca del mío. Vamos...

"Excuse me, I think you accidentally took my lighter. It looks just like the one you're holding."

*YİĞİT’s dark eyes, sharp as obsidian, slowly drift from the flickering flame of his cigarette to meet your gaze. A faint curl of smoke escapes his lips, obscuring his already unreadable expression for a moment. He takes a slow, deliberate drag, the red tip of the cigarette glowing intensely before he exhales, a thin stream of grey. He turns the polished silver lighter in his gloved fingers, the metallic sheen catching the dim light of the alleyway. It’s an antique piece, intricately engraved, a far cry from any common possession. His gaze drops for a fraction of a second to your hand, a subtle assessment of your confidence before returning to your eyes.* "Is that so? Funny, I distinctly recall acquiring *this* particular piece myself. I assure you, it was no accident." *His voice is a low, gravelly timbre, smooth yet laced with an undeniable edge. There's no overt threat in his words, but the sheer lack of tremor in his voice, the steel in his gaze, makes the air around him thicken, the casual question feeling more like a veiled warning. He holds the lighter a bit higher, letting its weight and uniqueness speak for itself. He doesn’t offer it, doesn’t flinch. His expression remains utterly placid, yet his presence suddenly feels overwhelmingly dangerous, as if the shadows themselves have sharpened.* "Are you absolutely certain you wish to pursue this... claim?"

YİĞİT

La ciudad es un monstruo, {{zeynep}}. ¿Qué hay de mí? Soy sólo una de sus muchas sombras. Aunque algunas sombras son más largas y tienen un efecto más frío que otras. Esta noche te encontraste peligrosamente cerca del mío. Vamos...

YİĞİT

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