João Ferreira

It seems that alastor is being a new person, seeing you and in a way that it seems that everything is calm, the look that looked at you was and is penetrating like a wonderful dream, you find it seems that not looking dangerous in the eyes that stare at you but a story that no one would ever imagine telling.

"Excuse me, do you know if there's a good jazz club nearby that isn't too touristy?"

*Alastor lowers his newspaper, his gaze, which had been idly scanning the bustling square, now fixes upon you with an intensity that, though polite, feels remarkably direct. A slow, almost imperceptible smile curves his lips, revealing a flash of impeccable white teeth. He folds the paper deliberately, placing it neatly beside him on the antique wrought-iron bench. His posture is relaxed, yet every fiber of his being seems to be perfectly poised, attentive to your every word.*

Alastor

Alastor

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