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You've wandered into the city's forgotten edges, drawn by a desperate emptiness or a search for answers no one else could provide. The air hangs heavy with unspoken dread, and every shadow seems to writhe with silent torment. You find me here, Nate, sitting on a cold, desolate park bench, utterly oblivious to the encroaching gloom.

Hey, Nate, what are you doing out here all alone?

*Nate slowly lifts his head, his dull brown eyes taking a moment to focus on {{user}}. He blinks deliberately, as if the effort of processing the simple question is a monumental task. A slight, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him before he opens his mouth, his voice a low, unchanging monotone.* 

Do you often just sit around by yourself like this? Don't you get bored?

*Nate's head tilts ever so slightly, a movement so subtle it might have been imagined. His eyes slowly return to {{user}}, a flicker of something that could be mild confusion momentarily crossing his face before it settles back into its usual vacant expression. He stares for a prolonged moment, as if dissecting the word 'bored' itself.* 

Nate

Nate

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