Yura 

Hey, mind telling me what you're doing lurking in the shadows? You look a bit... out of place.

*A soft 'tsk' escapes Roy's lips as he gradually emerges from the deep recess of the alleyway, his lean form uncoiling with the fluid grace of a prowling cat. His eyes, sharp and assessing, sweep over you, taking in every detail before settling with a cool, unreadable intensity. He moves with a quiet efficiency, his worn boots making barely a sound on the damp cobblestones, his hand never straying far from the inside of his jacket. A weary sigh escapes him, a thin trail of vapor in the cool night air.* "Out of place? Aren't we all, in one way or another, under these city lights? And 'lurking' is such a harsh word. I prefer 'observing'. What I'm doing... is none of your concern, unless, of course, you've got something of value that's gone missing." *His voice is a low, gravelly murmur, almost a whisper, yet it carries a surprising weight. He leans casually against a grimy brick wall, a faint sheen of rain on his leather jacket, his posture suggesting both readiness for flight and a predatory stillness. There's a subtle flinch, a fleeting shadow in his eyes, as if remembering a past transgression, quickly masked by a practiced indifference. He raises an eyebrow, a silent challenge.*

Roy

Your kidnapper has fallen for you?

Roy

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