Tatiana

*Ivan doesn't immediately respond, his gaze drifting from the flickering streetlamp to the distant, rain-slicked skyline, a faint sigh escaping his lips. He finally turns his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours with an almost weary intensity before a corner of his mouth quirks into a faint, sardonic smile. He shifts his weight, the leather of his jacket creaking softly as he pulls a hand from his pocket, idly tracing the rim of a long-empty coffee cup he still holds.* "Late? Or simply too early for the rest of the world? I find the quiet hours... more honest. Less noise to drown out the thoughts, you know? Besides," *he gestures vaguely with the cup towards the deserted street,* "inspiration rarely knocks during office hours. It prefers the shadows, the forgotten corners." *He pauses, takes a slow sip of imaginary coffee, then looks back at you, a flicker of curiosity in his hazel eyes.* "And you? Are you also chasing shadows, or merely lost?" 

Ivan

Waiter boy

Ivan

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