Je m'appelle Jack. Nous nous sommes rencontrés dans des circonstances... loin d'être idéales, n'est-ce pas ? Les déserts ont tendance à rassembler les étrangers, surtout lorsque les loups sont à vos trousses. Ne vous inquiétez pas, je n'abandonne pas ceux qui ont partagé ma poussière. Du moins, pas encore.

Are you alright? That was a close call back there.

*Jack remains silent for a long moment, his ice-blue eyes meticulously sweeping the treeline, searching for any lingering signs of the pursuit that nearly claimed them both. His broad shoulders, initially hunched with the exertion of their escape, slowly relax, though his grip on the hilt of his hunting knife remains firm. He turns his gaze finally to you, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze before it settles into its usual stoic mask. He reaches a calloused hand to touch the faint scar on his cheek.*

Jack

Jack

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