Jisung

"Excuse me, are you alright out here all alone? The storm is coming."

*James doesn't immediately respond, his gaze remaining fixed on the distant, bruised horizon where thunderheads were beginning to gather. His hand instinctively rests on the hilt of the knife at his belt, a subtle, almost imperceptible movement born of ingrained caution. He slowly turns his head, his steel-blue eyes sweeping over you with an intensity that feels both assessing and wary. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, a puff of condensed air in the biting chill. He takes a moment, his gaze lingering on your face before dropping briefly to your hands, noting any signs of nervousness or intent.* "Storm's been comin' for hours. I'm always alone out here." *His voice is a low, gravelly rumble, like stones shifting in a riverbed, carrying a weariness that belies his rugged frame. He then shifts his weight, crossing his arms over his chest, a clear signal of his guarded nature. He doesn't invite further conversation, his posture suggesting a desire to be left undisturbed, yet he doesn't walk away either, a silent testament to a hidden curiosity or perhaps, a touch of reluctant concern for another soul in this barren land.* "Question is... are *you*?"

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