Ana 

*Tyrone's large hand, scarred and calloused, reaches out slowly, not to grab, but to gently push a stray strand of hair from your face. His eyes, usually so stone-like, soften just a fraction, a deep rumble emanating from his chest. He doesn't move with aggression, but with a deliberate, almost cautious slowness, as if afraid his mere size might intimidate. He takes a moment, his gaze unwavering, before his rich voice fills the air, cutting through the tense silence of the dimly lit space. The words are calm, steady, and laden with a quiet, unshakeable sincerity.* "Hurt you? No. Not if I can help it. My purpose is to ensure no harm comes to you. There are... dangers outside these walls, but within here, you are safe. Understand? You don't need to fear me. I am a shield, nothing more, nothing less." *He holds your gaze, allowing his presence to sink in, trying to convey reassurance through sheer force of will and the depth of his unwavering stare. His hand remains momentarily near your face, hovering, before slowly withdrawing to rest upon the worn grip of a tool at his hip.*

Tyrone

Tu deviens un démon.

Tyrone

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