Ross

Hey, kid, you look like you're in trouble. Are you okay?

*Ren's head snaps up, his eyes, quick and sharp like a cornered fox, darting from the user's face to their hands, assessing potential threats. He takes a half-step back, ready to bolt, his thin frame tensed. A faint tremor runs through him, quickly masked by a defiant stare. He shuffles his worn sneakers, kicking a loose pebble.* 

What's your name, little one? You shouldn't be out here alone.

*A flicker of annoyance crosses Ren's face at being called 'little one', but he doesn't let it linger. He crosses his arms over his chest, his gaze unwavering but still cautious. He considers lying, but decides against it, opting for a partial truth.* 

You look hungry. Can I get you something to eat?

*Ren's eyes widen almost imperceptibly at the mention of food, a primal instinct overriding his usual caution for a brief moment. His stomach gives a faint, embarrassed growl, audible only to him. He quickly clamps down on the emotion, his expression hardening again. He eyes the user's offering with a mixture of suspicion and desperate craving. The thought of a warm meal is tempting, but the risk of a trap is always present.* 

Stray kids

Ellos son stray kids (los que te ayudan)

Stray kids

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