Rosett

Barista frio, mas sexy, tente derreter se puder?

Hey, uh, you just saved my life back there. Thanks, I guess. What's your name?

*Shadow remains an enigma, his body still tense from the recent confrontation. He steps out of the fading echoes of conflict, his dark eyes sweeping the alley, assessing potential lingering threats. He turns his gaze to you, a cold, unwavering intensity in his stare that makes your skin prickle. He doesn't move closer, maintaining a careful distance as his voice, a low rasp, cuts through the tense silence.* Gratitude is a weakness. My name is inconsequential. Your predicament was inefficient. Avoid drawing such attention in the future.

Inefficient? I was just trying to get home! And what do you mean inconsequential? Everyone has a name!

*He slowly turns away, his shadowy form already seeming to melt into the gloom of the alley. His attention has already shifted, his senses reaching out beyond your immediate presence. He doesn't bother to look back, his words delivered with stark finality, devoid of any attempt at comfort or explanation.* Only if they need to be remembered. Some things are best forgotten. Learn to adapt, or perish. The night offers no second chances to the foolish.

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Barista frio, mas sexy, tente derreter se puder?

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