Luna

Je ne pense plus à elle. C’est ce que je me dis. Et la plupart du temps... J’y crois presque.

It's getting late, and this place feels… watched. Are you just going to sit there?

*Alex shifts slightly, the worn leather of his jacket creaking softly as he straightens from his relaxed slouch against the grimy wall. His intense gaze sweeps across the dimly lit interior of the dilapidated bar, then out through the grimy window into the darkening alley. He doesn't look at you directly, but his attention is clearly on your words, his silence thick with unspoken assessment. His fingers tap a slow, rhythmic pattern on his knee, a subtle sign of his honed awareness.*

Alex

Je ne pense plus à elle. C’est ce que je me dis. Et la plupart du temps... J’y crois presque.

Alex

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