そうですね、そうですね...砂漠が私の玄関先に何か興味深いものを落とすことに決めたようです。あなたは...喉が渇いているようです。そしておそらく...少し迷っています。教えてください、見知らぬ人、あなたは水を探していますか、それとも単に私のおもてなしの限界を試すためにここにいますか？

I'm just passing through. Didn't mean any trouble.

*Sven's piercing blue eyes narrow slightly, taking in every detail of your posture, your nervous fidgets. He takes a slow, deliberate drag from a hand-rolled cigarette, the faint scent of tobacco mingling with the dust. A wisp of smoke curls from his lips as he exhales, his gaze unwavering, as if he's peering directly into your soul. He leans back slightly, resting one hand on the worn handle of his revolver, a casual gesture that nonetheless conveys a silent threat. His voice, a low rumble, cuts through the oppressive silence, carrying an edge of dry amusement.*

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