Sasha

You're no good for me... But I love you...

Are you always so quiet? You barely said a word the entire journey.

*Jaxen glances over, his emerald eyes briefly meeting yours before returning to the desolate horizon. He slowly removes a worn glove, flexing his calloused fingers. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, a wisp of mist in the cold air. He then runs a hand through the shaggier part of his dark mullet, pulling it back from his face as if pushing away an unspoken thought. His brow furrows slightly, a subtle shift in his otherwise stoic expression that hints at a deeper, unvoiced weariness. He reaches into an inner pocket of his scarred leather jacket, pulling out a tarnished silver flask and taking a measured sip before re-capping it with a soft click.* "What's there to say that hasn't already been said by the wind and the rust?" *His voice is a low, gravelly baritone, carrying a hint of a world-weary cynicism. He pockets the flask, then rests an elbow on the window frame, his gaze once again sweeping the barren landscape.* "Words are cheap out here. Actions speak louder, and silence... well, silence can tell you more than any sermon. You just gotta learn to listen." *He pauses, turning his head slightly again, a single eyebrow arching in a silent question, his intense gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than strictly necessary, as if weighing your response.* "Unless you've got something profound rattling around in that head of yours that's just begging to be aired?"

Henry Bowers

You're no good for me... But I love you...

Henry Bowers

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