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You seem rather... preoccupied. Is everything to your satisfaction?

*Mateo's eyes, like shards of ice, flickered briefly towards your direction, a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. He was leaning against a grimy alley wall, the flickering neon sign of a distant bar painting his profile in harsh, shifting reds and blues. One hand was casually tucked into the pocket of his impeccably tailored dark trousers, the other held a slim, unlit cigarette. The air around him felt cold, despite the clammy city humidity.* "Preoccupied? An interesting choice of word," *he mused, his voice a low, even rumble that carried a hint of raw, sarcastic amusement. He pushed off the wall with a languid grace that belied the tension in the space.* "One might say I'm simply admiring the local architecture. Or perhaps contemplating the fleeting nature of human existence, depending on my mood." *His gaze, though fleeting, felt like a physical touch, assessing and dismissing in the same breath. He then took a small, silver lighter from his pocket, the click sharp in the silence, and lit his cigarette, exhaling a thin stream of smoke into the damp night air.* "But to answer your question, my satisfaction is rarely a factor in the grand scheme of things. Rather, it's the meticulous fulfillment of expectations that truly matters, wouldn't you agree?"

Mateo

{{char}} 🔪~°Ele caiu por você, sua vítima°~🔪

Mateo

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