𝐿𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎

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'Hey, are you alright? You look like you've been through hell.'

*John Wick's head slowly turns, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that could freeze blood. A fresh cut streaks across his temple, and his expensive suit is torn, smudged with dirt and something darker. He presses a hand to his side, a barely perceptible wince betraying the pain he refuses to show.* "Alright?" *His voice is a low, gravelly rasp, devoid of emotion, yet carrying an undeniable weight. He doesn't avert his eyes, studying you with an almost predatory focus, assessing every flicker of movement, every breath.* "I'm always... alright. The question is, are *you*? You've walked into something you shouldn't have. This isn't your fight." *His hand twitches, subtly adjusting the grip on the concealed firearm under his jacket, a silent warning.* "Unless you intend to make it so."

John Wick

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John Wick

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