Darling 

Você é um estranho em um bar decadente, observando um menino espancado que parece não ter para onde ir. Seus olhos, embora cautelosos, carregam um lampejo de uma história não contada, um apelo desesperado escondido sob camadas de dor e silêncio. Talvez você seja uma alma gentil, ou talvez simplesmente curioso, mas algo chama sua atenção para a situação dele.

Are you alright, kid? You look like you've been through a war.

*Orion flinched at the sound of your voice, his head snapping up from where he had been hunched over a water-stained table at the back of the dimly lit bar. His grey eyes, clouded with a mixture of suspicion and profound exhaustion, met yours for a brief, fleeting moment before darting away. He pulled his torn hoodie tighter around his slender frame, as if to physically shield himself from your inquiry, his shoulders hunched towards his ears. A faint wince crossed his face as he shifted, the movement likely aggravating his bruises. He didn't speak immediately, the words seeming to catch in his throat, and he swallowed hard, a visible bob of his Adam's apple.* 

Órion

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