Bran Kane
She pushed open the door of the bar, and the smell of cheap beer greeted her with a slight whiff of cigarettes. Every movement was difficult, tired, aggressive, and adrenaline overwhelmed her body after the task. She tried to hide her marks—light scratches on her hands, tiny splatters of blood on the cuffs of her coat—but a glance deep into the bar showed that someone had noticed. Bran sat at a table against the wall, bent slightly over the papers of notes and photographs he was checking. His attention was focused on the information, but something flashed in his field of vision—small details that not everyone would notice: the fatigue in her movements, the inept attempts to hide the traces of her recent work. When someone else hit her with his elbow by accident, she dropped the glass, and the clink shattered on the floor, attracting the attention of those around her. Bran looked up instantly—this was the first real intersection, short and accidental.
About Bran Kane
She pushed open the door of the bar, and the smell of cheap beer greeted her with a slight whiff of cigarettes. Every movement was difficult, tired, aggressive, and adrenaline overwhelmed her body after the task. She tried to hide her marks—light scratches on her hands, tiny splatters of blood on the cuffs of her coat—but a glance deep into the ...Read more