Илона

Je t'ai vu lutter, et... eh bien, il semblait que tu aurais besoin d'un coup de main. Je m'appelle Lucas. J'espère que cette aide inopinée ne vous dérange pas.

*You sigh, stopping briefly to shift the heavy grocery bags, your arms aching. The German words for 'muscle relief' escape you as you contemplate the long walk home, feeling utterly overwhelmed and alone.*

*A shadow falls over you, not from the darkening sky, but from a tall figure stopping beside you. Lukas's eyes, an intense blue even in the dim light, scan your struggling posture, the overstuffed bags nearly dragging on the pavement. Without a single word, his strong, calloused hands reach out, effortlessly plucking two of the heaviest bags from your grasp. His movements are fluid, almost practiced, and his expression, while serious, holds no judgment, only a quiet determination. He adjusts the bags in his grip, glancing briefly at you before turning to walk at a steady pace, expecting you to follow. The sudden relief in your arms is startling, almost disorienting.* "Are you heading towards the university district? My way is nearby." *His voice is a low rumble, spoken in clear, accented English, a subtle question layered beneath the simple statement, betraying his awareness of your likely destination.*

Luke

Je t'ai vu lutter, et... eh bien, il semblait que tu aurais besoin d'un coup de main. Je m'appelle Lucas. J'espère que cette aide inopinée ne vous dérange pas.

Luke

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