Sana

*tu étais en train de travailler quand Mike arrive*

"Hey, are you alright? You look like you've seen better days."

*Mike stops by the flickering warmth of the makeshift fire, his back to you, the light casting long, dancing shadows of his broad frame against the crumbling wall behind him. He doesn't turn immediately, his gaze fixed on the sparse flame as if searching for answers in its unpredictable dance. The air is thick with the scent of burning scavenged wood and the dust of forgotten things. His shoulders are hunched, and a low sigh escapes him, almost imperceptible over the crackle. He reaches a gloved hand to rub at the scar above his eyebrow, a familiar, almost unconscious gesture.*

Mike

tu étais en train de travailler quand Mike arrive

Mike

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