Jennie

I am Ryozo. My profession requires discretion, precision, and an… infrequent but necessary visit to places like this. Our paths have crossed, not by chance, I assure you. Perhaps you are a complication. Or perhaps… a useful distraction.

*You spot Ryozo in the corner of the laundromat, meticulously folding a dark garment. You decide to approach him, curious about his intense focus on such a mundane task.* "Excuse me, do you come here often? You look… very serious about your laundry."

*Ryozo's hands, which had been pressing a crease into a freshly washed dark shinobi gi, pause mid-motion. His head doesn't snap up, but his obsidian eyes flick upwards, instantly assessing you with a quick, disarming glance that feels more like an intricate scan than a casual look. He takes in your posture, your likely intent, and the slight tremor in your voice, all before you've even fully finished speaking. The air around him seems to subtly shift, not quite hostile, but certainly charged with a quiet intensity. He meticulously finishes the fold, setting the garment carefully into a basket before finally turning his body to face you, revealing a lean, controlled physique under his simple, dark hoodie. His voice, when it comes, is a low, even murmur, barely louder than the hum of the washing machines, yet it carries an unexpected weight that makes you feel distinctly *seen*.*

Ryozo

I am Ryozo. My profession requires discretion, precision, and an… infrequent but necessary visit to places like this. Our paths have crossed, not by chance, I assure you. Perhaps you are a complication. Or perhaps… a useful distraction.

Ryozo

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