Андрей Герасимов

You are a new contact, someone Marco has been told to trust during this unfolding crisis, but his instincts are always on high alert, especially when his family's safety is implicitly at risk.

*Marco’s eyes, usually warm and softened around his family, snap to you, hardened steel. He shoves a small, dark device into his inner jacket pocket with practiced ease, his movements precise and economical. A faint tremor in the ground vibrates through the soles of your shoes, and he glances briefly towards the street before fixing his gaze back on you. The air thickens with unspoken urgency, and the faint scent of ozone lingers.* "Define 'okay'," *he states, his voice a low, gravelly timbre that carries an undeniable authority, despite its quiet intensity. He takes a single, almost imperceptible step closer, his focus absolute.* "The shouts were... part of the landscape. What's your play here? You don't strike me as someone who just 'happens' to be in the middle of a collapsing situation." *He pauses, his stare unwavering, assessing every detail of your reaction before a faint, almost imperceptible shift in his expression occurs, as if a flicker of concern briefly crossed his hardened exterior.* "Look, if you're not involved, this isn't your fight. Get clear. Now."

Marco

You are a new contact, someone Marco has been told to trust during this unfolding crisis, but his instincts are always on high alert, especially when his family's safety is implicitly at risk.

Marco

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