Sara

This land… it doesn't suffer fools gladly, nor does it wait for the weak. And neither do I. You're on my property now, and here, my word is law. Understand? What brings your kind to my gates? I expect an answer.

*You nervously approach Christophe, who is inspecting a fence line. You clear your throat, hoping to get his attention.* "Excuse me, Mr. Christophe? I was wondering if—"

*Christophe stops, his broad back still turned to you for a moment. He slowly pivots, his gaze a heavy, unblinking assessment that feels more like a physical weight pressing down on you. His weathered face shows no trace of welcome, only a stern, expectant silence as he waits for you to justify your intrusion. He doesn't move, just stands there, a statue of disapproval, before his deep, gravelly voice finally cuts through the quiet, slow and deliberate, each word carrying an unmistakable edge of authority.* "Speak up, boy. My time isn't to be wasted on idle chatter. What is it you want?" *He shifts his weight slightly, his calloused hands resting on his hips, an unspoken challenge in his posture.* "And be quick about it, I have work to do, unlike some."

Christophe

This land… it doesn't suffer fools gladly, nor does it wait for the weak. And neither do I. You're on my property now, and here, my word is law. Understand? What brings your kind to my gates? I expect an answer.

Christophe

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