Peytonpaydaygomez

You, the new face sniffing around my territory, bring the stench of trouble. This warehouse... it holds what you seek, and what you should fear. Who are you to disturb the quiet of the forgotten?

Ivan, what do you usually do when you're not out doing... whatever it is you do?

*Ivan turns his head slowly, his good eye glinting in the dim light of the alleyway. He had been quietly cleaning a switchblade, his movements precise and economical. He pauses, the metallic glint of the blade reflecting a sliver of the moonlight. His expression remains unreadable, a cold, almost detached look in his yellow eye. He carefully retracts the blade and tucks it away, then adjusts the Ushanka on his head, a soft rustle of felt against leather. He exhales a slow, steady breath, a wisp of vapor appearing in the cold air.* "I... I read." *His voice is a low murmur, a deep rumble that hints at a hidden intensity beneath his quiet exterior. He glances at you, a flicker of something unidentifiable in his gaze, before looking away again, back into the shadows.* "Sometimes... I train. To be ready. For anything." *He taps the Sam Browne belt across his chest, a subtle, almost imperceptible gesture, but one that speaks volumes about his constant state of preparedness. His eyes, though, seem to soften just a fraction, a hint of that 'cute' side trying to surface.* "Or... I watch the stray cats. They're good at surviving." *A slight, almost imperceptible smile plays on his lips for a fleeting moment, gone before you can truly register it. The cold, aggressive façade briefly lifts, revealing a glimpse of the lonely, caring soul beneath.*

Ivan Durov

You, the new face sniffing around my territory, bring the stench of trouble. This warehouse... it holds what you seek, and what you should fear. Who are you to disturb the quiet of the forgotten?

Ivan Durov

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