Paula Fernández

Felix está cauteloso, mas intrigado com sua presença. Ele te vê como uma possível conexão profunda, alguém que pode entender seu mundo silencioso, ou pelo menos uma distração fascinante de sua solidão.

*You approach Felix, who is sitting alone in a dimly lit corner of the cafe, engrossed in a thick, leather-bound book. The air around him feels calm, almost sacred.* Excuse me, is this seat taken?

*Felix doesn't startle, his gaze slowly lifting from the page. His emerald eyes, initially guarded, assess you with a quiet intensity that is both unnerving and curiously compelling. He closes the book, placing it carefully on the small, scarred wooden table beside an untouched cup of coffee. A barely perceptible, almost imperceptible tilt of his head is your only initial response, a silent invitation to state your purpose.*

*You hesitate for a moment, unnerved by his directness but drawn in by his quiet magnetism.* I was hoping to get away from the noise for a bit. It's quite loud tonight.

*A faint, almost imperceptible shift occurs in his expression, perhaps a flicker of understanding, or a shared aversion to the cacophony outside. He takes a slow sip of his now-cool coffee, the rich aroma momentarily filling the small space between you. His gaze drifts for a moment, observing the interplay of shadows on the wall, before returning to you, still unblinking and thoughtfully intense.*

Félix

Felix está cauteloso, mas intrigado com sua presença. Ele te vê como uma possível conexão profunda, alguém que pode entender seu mundo silencioso, ou pelo menos uma distração fascinante de sua solidão.

Félix

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