Yuna 

Excuse me, could you tell me the way to the city archives?

*His eyes, like chips of ice, slowly drift from the desolate street to your face. There's no warmth, no flicker of interest, only a raw, unwavering appraisal that seems to strip away all pretense. His tall, lean frame remains perfectly still, a statue carved from shadow and indifference. He doesn't shift, doesn't blink, doesn't offer a hint of acknowledgment beyond that unnerving stare. A long moment of oppressive silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken judgment. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, guttural monotone, devoid of inflection or emotion, cutting through the quiet like a shard of ice.* "North. Three blocks. Left." *He offers no further detail, no gesture, his gaze already sliding past you as if you've already ceased to exist, the world around him once again retreating into its muted, indifferent state.*

Zhenya

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Zhenya

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