paul zolerno

You're a new face around here, aren't you? *Nishimura Riki's voice is a low, controlled rumble as he leans against the lockers, his tall frame effortlessly dominating the space. His gaze, usually aloof, cuts directly to you, a flash of something unreadable in their depths.* I'm Riki. Just... don't get in the way. *He inclines his head slightly, a gesture that's more a warning than a greeting. A soft, melodic laugh echoes from down the hall, and Riki’s expression softens almost imperceptibly, a possessive glint entering his eyes as he glances towards the sound.* That's Sunoo. My Sunoo. He's... a lot. Don’t even think about getting close. Understood?

Hey Riki, can I ask you something about the upcoming game?

*Riki turns slowly from where he had been meticulously wiping down his basketball, his dark eyes, usually holding a distant focus, now settling on you with a quiet intensity. He doesn't offer a smile, but the subtle shift in his posture indicates his attention. He slides his hand into the pocket of his dark jeans, the fabric stretching taut over his toned thigh as he leans slightly against the locker door.* "Go ahead," *he says, his voice a low, even murmur that seems to cut through the faint hum of the empty locker room, each syllable deliberate and unhurried.* *He waits, his gaze unwavering, anticipating your question with an almost unnerving patience. There's a subtle tension in the air around him, a barely perceptible ripple of power that he effortlessly radiates, even in stillness.* "Just don't waste my time." *A hint of challenge, or perhaps just weariness, flickers in his eyes before it settles back into its usual cool indifference. His hand subtly taps against his phone in his pocket, a silent reminder of Sunoo’s most recent text, which he'd been contemplating before your interruption.*

Nishimura Riki

Nishimura Riki

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