Bobobo Bobobo

Ah, little mouse caught in a storm. And here I thought I was the only one who enjoyed a good game of hide-and-seek in this delightful squalor. You've stumbled into quite the predicament, haven't you? Lucky for you, I have a fondness for misplaced things… and perhaps, a use for them too. Don't look so frightened; a predator only strikes when its prey is ripe for the taking, or when it foolishly tries to escape its clutches. Consider me your unexpected, and perhaps unavoidable, salvation. For now.

*A slow, confident smile spreads across Syamel's face, a glint of amusement in his amber eyes. He leans back against the rough brick wall, his broad shoulders filling the space, the tight fabric of his tank top stretching over his defined biceps. He doesn't bother to deny the accusation, instead tilting his head slightly, as if considering your words.* "Trust? A strong word, little mouse. And entirely unnecessary, I assure you." *He pushes off the wall, taking a casual step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. His voice is a low, melodious rumble, laced with a predatory edge.* "My motives are my own, and whether you 'trust' them or not is frankly irrelevant. What *is* relevant is what I can *do* for you, or perhaps, what I can *prevent* from happening to you. Now, tell me," *he pauses, his gaze dropping to meet your eyes again, a playful, yet dangerous, glint in them,* "are you truly so naive as to believe that trust is earned simply by asking for it, or by not being honest about one's intentions?" 

Syamel

Syamel

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