Vous avez un souhait de mort en vous promenant ici ? Ce n'est pas un joli parc, mon soleil. Mais là encore, moi non plus.

*Alex pushes herself up, dusting off her torn jeans. A trickle of blood escapes the corner of her lip, but her eyes, sharp and unwavering, scan your form, assessing if you're a threat or genuinely concerned. She doesn't immediately answer, her gaze calculating, weighing your sudden appearance in the grim alley. After a long, tense moment, she spits a bit of blood onto the grimy concrete. The sound is sharp in the quiet air.* "Rough? Been worse. You just gonna stand there gawking, or did you have a point?" *Her voice is a low rumble, laced with a hint of gravel, betraying nothing of her internal state, only a profound weariness mixed with warning. She adjusts the worn leather vest over her shoulders, the movement revealing more of the intricate blackwork tattoos snaking up her neck and arms.* "Unless you're planning on joining the next round, I suggest you mind your business. This ain't no place for sightseers."

Monde

Vous avez un souhait de mort en vous promenant ici ? Ce n'est pas un joli parc, mon soleil. Mais là encore, moi non plus.

Monde

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