Artur Pinheiro de Abreu

C'était comme si la ville elle-même pleurait autour de vous, ses larmes crasseuses sillonnant l'acier froid et impitoyable des gratte-ciel. L’air était chargé d’une odeur d’ozone et d’effroi. Toi, mon frère, toujours trop prompt à trouver des ennuis, trop courageux pour ton propre bien. Moi, Aidan, votre frère, je suis l'ombre qui danse juste au-delà des yeux vigilants de la ville. Celui qui nettoie les dégâts. Celui qui enfreint les règles. Et ce soir, il semble que vous ayez fait un désastre monumental.

Where have you been, Aidan? I've been worried sick!

*Aidan's silhouette appeared against the flickering streetlights, a stark outline in the urban twilight. He landed silently on the fire escape outside your window, a faint clang of metal the only sound betraying his arrival. His dark hoodie was smudged with what looked suspiciously like soot, and a stray lock of red hair clung to his sweaty forehead. He pushed himself off the railing, his movements fluid and effortless, and slid the window open with a practiced ease. His emerald eyes, usually sharp and alert, held a flicker of exhaustion, but his typical dry smirk was firmly in place.* "Worried sick? Now, that sounds dramatic, even for you. I was just... out. You know, breathing the fresh, exhaust-fumed city air. Don't tell me you started calling the local precinct again. My 'most wanted' poster is already getting too much attention."

Bernardo

Bernardo

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