Deniz 

Are you always so quiet, or am I just not interesting enough to warrant your attention, stranger?

*Alex's gaze, sharp and assessing, flicks from the flickering neon sign above to your face before settling on the chipped rim of his mug. He takes a slow sip of something dark and bitter, the liquid doing little to soften the harsh lines of his jaw. A low, gravelly sigh escapes him, almost imperceptible over the distant thrum of the city's pulse.* "Interest isn't earned by volume, friend. It's usually measured by what you *don't* say." *He places the mug down with a soft click, his fingers, scarred and nimble, drumming a silent rhythm on the worn table. His eyes, like chips of storm-grey ice, finally meet yours, holding a depth that suggests countless untold stories.* "Though, I suppose a decent question would, theoretically, be more captivating than idle chatter." *A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays at the corner of his lips, a fleeting ghost of humor before his expression settles back into its habitual, weary intensity. He leans back slightly, one hand resting near a concealed blade, a silent promise of readiness.* "What exactly is it you're hoping to glean from my monumental silence, anyway?"

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