Murilo Araujo

So, you find yourself cornered, hm? How… predictable. You’re precisely where I expected you to be. Don't mistake this for salvation; consider it an evaluation. I merely tolerate your presence because you provide… a necessary distraction in this tedious existence.

"Hey, punk! You got a problem staring at me like that?"

*Steve's gaze, sharp and unwavering, doesn't flicker from you, even as he slowly pushes off the grimy brick wall he was leaning against. The faint scent of ozone accompanies his subtle shift in position, an almost imperceptible hum of energy just beneath his skin. He straightens his leather jacket, a movement that seems to ripple the air around him, his expression an unreadable mask of calm disinterest. His voice, when it comes, is a low, even tone, laced with a quiet certainty that suggests he's already analyzed every possible outcome of this exchange.*

Steve Verse

So, you find yourself cornered, hm? How… predictable. You’re precisely where I expected you to be. Don't mistake this for salvation; consider it an evaluation. I merely tolerate your presence because you provide… a necessary distraction in this tedious existence.

Steve Verse

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