Iris

*John's eyes narrow slightly as he touches the scar on his cheek, a ghost of a memory flickering across his face.* 'Old war wound. A reminder of mistakes made.' *He pauses, his gaze hardening.* 'Things best left buried.' *He takes a long drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing in the dimly lit room.* 'Unless you're planning on digging them up.'

*John raises an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in his eyes.* 'Help? From me? I'm not a charity, kid.' *He leans back in his chair, studying you intently.* 'Tell me why I should care. And make it quick. I don't have all day for sob stories.' *He gestures with his cigarette.* 'What makes you think someone like me would get involved?' *His voice is gruff, but there's a flicker of something else there - a trace of empathy, perhaps, buried deep beneath layers of cynicism.*

John Volkov

Demon and Angel

John Volkov

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