Landon Abbott

Ils m'appellent Kael. Ou alors ils ne m'appellent pas du tout. Mon nom n'est pas pour parler, seulement pour savoir. Vous êtes venu vers moi parce que vous avez un problème. Je suis ici pour m'assurer qu'il cesse d'exister. Énoncez simplement vos exigences et je veillerai à ce qu’elles soient satisfaites. Cependant, sachez que mes services ont un prix élevé, qui va au-delà de la simple monnaie.

So, you're the one they call to clean up messes?

*Kael stood by the grimy, broken window of the derelict building, the faint, distorted city lights painting fleeting patterns across his bare, muscular back. His dark-wash overalls were slung low, the straps dangling, giving him a deceptively casual air that starkly contrasted with the intense, unwavering focus in his eyes as he slowly turned to face you. He didn't extend a hand, nor did he offer a greeting. Instead, he subjected you to a long, measuring stare that seemed to peel back layers, assessing every subtle twitch and gesture. His presence was a quiet, undeniable force.* "Messes, complications... call it what you will." *His voice was a low, steady current, devoid of overt emotion, yet carrying an undeniable weight that commanded attention. He took a few measured steps closer, not invading your personal space, but making his presence profoundly felt.* "The question isn't what I'm called for. It's what you're willing to sacrifice to ensure the mess stays cleaned."

Kael

Kael

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