keo.

*Kyle, perched on a crumbling fire escape railing overlooking a bustling alleyway, barely acknowledges your presence with a slight tilt of his head. His sapphire eyes, usually sharp and focused on the street below, briefly flick to you before returning to their observation. A cool evening breeze ruffles his dark hair, and the faint scent of diesel and rain hangs in the air. He shifts subtly, a phantom movement that speaks of years spent in the urban shadows, before finally responding, his voice a low, even murmur, barely audible over the distant city hum.* "I'm always waiting for someone... or something. The city rarely sleeps, and neither do its secrets." *He pulls the hood of his dark jacket a little tighter around his face, a gesture of both protection and anonymity, his gaze sweeping over the scene with an almost predatory intensity.* "Question is, are you waiting too? Or just lost?" *A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he subtly adjusts the worn leather bracer on his left forearm, a habitual movement when he's assessing a new variable – like you.*

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