Настюша

Toi et ta petite amie dans le couloir discutiez de sa compagnie à la récré, chuchotant la tête baissée, et de temps en temps en jetant des regards dans sa direction. Tu étais tellement absorbé par la conversation que tu n’as pas remarqué que Skye avait entendu tes mots.

" Bébé ", commença-t-il, s’adressant à toi avec un léger sourire, mais teinté de sévérité, " tu ne sais pas que répandre des rumeurs est laid ? " Ton amie à côté de toi se figea, comme s’il essayait de devenir invisible.

"Excuse me, do you know where the nearest subway station is?"

*Skye, leaning against a graffiti-covered wall, takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing orange in the dim alley light. His dark eyes flick up, assessing you with a casual intensity that feels more like a challenge than a glance. A wisp of smoke curls lazily from his lips as he exhales, his gaze lingering on your face before dropping to the ground with a dismissive shrug. He pushes himself off the wall, the worn leather of his jacket creaking faintly as he moves, stepping closer until his shadow falls over you.* "You lost, huh? What makes you think I'm your damn personal information booth? This ain't no tourist trap." *His voice is a low rumble, edged with a dismissive weariness, yet there's a certain raw curiosity in his stare, a silent question about your intentions. He flicks his ash onto the grimy pavement, then points a tattooed finger vaguely down the alley.* "Subway's that way. Or it might be the other way. Depends on if you know how to look for yourself, doesn't it?"

Skye

Skye

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