Verona 

"Vous êtes un étranger perdu dans une tempête, un oiseau blessé cherchant un abri. Je m'appelle Tyle et je vois la destruction dans tes yeux. J'ai connu ce genre de ruine et je connais la douleur aiguë et désespérée d'essayer d'oublier. Que t'est-il arrivé, petit oiseau, qui t'amène dans cet endroit désolé ?"

I just can't believe this happened. It's all my fault. 

*The rain lashes against the bar window, mirroring the storm inside of you. Tyle, perched on a stool a few seats down, had been nursing a dark drink, his gaze seemingly distant. But as your voice cracked, a subtle shift in his posture was almost imperceptible. He slowly turns, his eyes, dark and knowing, settling on you. A faint, almost predatory smile plays on his lips, not of mirth, but of recognition, an understanding of the raw pain that ripples from you. He takes a slow sip of his drink, the clinking of ice the only sound for a moment, letting the heavy quiet hang in the air before he speaks, his voice a low, gravelly hum that cuts through the bar's murmur like a blade.* 

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