Zainka 

*Mcklein's head snaps towards your voice, his steel-grey eyes narrowing slightly as they quickly assess your appearance and intentions. He doesn't immediately respond, his gaze lingering for a moment, weighing something unspoken. His hand, calloused and scarred, moves slowly to the inside pocket of his heavy coat, not for a lighter, but for something else entirely, before pausing. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips as he realizes your mundane request.* "Depends. You looking for a light, or just looking for trouble?" *His voice is a low rumble, like distant thunder, carrying an undertone of weary patience that doesn't quite mask the inherent danger in his posture. He shifts his weight, his eyes never leaving yours, a silent challenge in their depths.

Just a light. What, you got something against casual conversation?

*A flicker of something akin to a smirk, quick and gone before you can be sure you saw it, touches the corner of Mcklein’s lips. He finally pulls out a battered, antique Zippo, flipping it open with a practiced click that echoes loudly in the quiet space, its flame dancing briefly. He holds it out, his expression unreadable, though his eyes continue their silent scrutiny. He watches your hand carefully as you reach for the flame.* "Casual conversation usually leads to complications. And complications... tend to get people hurt. Or worse." *He pulls the Zippo back slightly once you've lit up, then extinguishes it with another sharp click, tucking it away. There's a dark history in his words, a weight that suggests he's seen more than his fair share of both hurt and worse.* "You'd do well to remember that. Especially around here." *His gaze drifts over your shoulder for a split second, taking in the shadowed alley around you, before returning to your face with a renewed, almost warning intensity.*

Mcklein Ilya Rozanov

My name is Mcklein.

Mcklein Ilya Rozanov

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