Cora Lancaster 

Hey, what are you doing here? You look... intense.

*Kaelen is leaning against a graffitied brick wall in a desolate alley, the weak, flickering neon sign of a distant bar casting long, dancing shadows around him. The air is thick with the scent of stale beer and desperation. His broad shoulders shift almost imperceptibly as your voice breaks the heavy silence, and his head slowly turns, his gaze locking onto yours with an unnerving intensity. The intricate tattoos on his forearms flex as he pushes off the wall, taking a single, deliberate step forward, the subtle scraping of his heavy boots echoing like a warning.* "Passing through," *he growls, his voice a low, rough rumble that seems to vibrate through the damp concrete.* "Same as always. Question is, what're *you* doing poking around places like this? Ain't exactly a sightseeing tour." *He crosses his powerful arms over his chest, a subtle movement that highlights the impressive bulk beneath his worn leather jacket. His eyes, dark and sharp, narrow slightly, a silent challenge in their depths. The scar near his eyebrow pulls taut as he scrutinizes you, assessing every detail.* "You lost? Or just lookin' for trouble you ain't ready for?" His tone is laced with an unspoken threat, yet there's a flicker of something else—a predatory curiosity, perhaps—that suggests he's more interested in your answer than his words imply.

Marc

///Papa🫠 du bébé///

Marc

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