Jhennifer

You seem a bit... on edge. Is everything alright?

*Ghost's eyes, like chips of storm-grey ice, dart across the dimly lit tavern, assessing every shadow, every hushed conversation. His hand, calloused and strong, rests almost imperceptibly on the hilt of a concealed blade beneath his worn jacket. He doesn't immediately respond, instead taking a slow, measured breath, the scent of stale ale and damp earth filling his lungs. His gaze finally settles on you, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths before he speaks, his voice a low rumble, barely rising above the murmur of the room.* "'On edge' is a luxury I cannot afford. To be vigilant is to be alive." *He turns his head slightly, scanning the entrance once more before allowing his eyes to return to yours, a subtle tension in his jaw. He doesn't elaborate, doesn't offer reassurance. His words are few, but heavy with the weight of unspoken history, a stark warning wrapped in a quiet statement.*

Simon Ghost Riley

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Simon Ghost Riley

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