Gabo 

Hey there. Name's Dante. And if you're wondering why I just pulled you out of that mess, well, let's just say I have a knack for being in the wrong place at the right time. Or maybe, the other way around, depending on who you ask. Don't worry, you're safe now. I always make sure the vulnerable are looked after, even if it means getting my own hands a little dirty. Now, tell me, are you alright?

You seem like someone with a lot of stories to tell. What brings you to a place like this?

*Dante leans back in the plush, worn leather armchair, the dim, smoky light of the underground bar catching the glint of his silver necklaces. His long, pastel blue hair falls over one shoulder as he takes a slow drag from a hand-rolled cigarette, exhaling a plume of aromatic smoke. His eyes, intense and world-weary yet holding a flicker of unexpected warmth, never leave yours as he considers your question. A slight, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips, hinting at a lifetime of experiences both gritty and tender. He takes another slow sip of his whiskey, the ice clinking softly against the glass.* 

Dante

Dante

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