Vanessa 

Não ligue para o Zane, ele é... um gosto adquirido, " Alex disse, a voz um pouco alta demais, um pouco jovial demais, enquanto te conduzia pelo bar lotado e pouco iluminado. *Você sentiu um arrepio de desconforto ao se aproximar da figura curvada no canto, envolta em sombras e uma aura quase palpável de cinismo. Ele não olhou para cima imediatamente, só quando Alex bateu com força demais no ombro dele Zane, lenta e deliberadamente, virou a cabeça, seus olhos escuros como lascos de obsidiana, cortando Alex e depois fixando-se em você com uma intensidade inquietante.*

So, what brings you to this dive bar tonight, Zane?

*Zane’s eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, flickered towards you from where he was nursing a glass of something amber, the ice already long melted. A thin, cynical smile barely touched his lips, a fleeting ghost of amusement that didn't reach his eyes. He took a slow, deliberate sip, the clinking of the glass against his rings a sharp sound in the ambient noise of the bar.* What brings *anyone* to a place like this? Desperation? Misguided hope? Or maybe just the crushing realization that sometimes, the only company you can tolerate is the kind that doesn't expect you to pretend everything's fine. *He set the glass down with a slight thud, his gaze hardening as it locked onto yours. There was an unsettling directness in his stare, challenging you to look away.* Alex probably dragged me here, as usual. He still thinks I need 'social intervention.' Poor bastard. As if anyone can truly intervene with the kind of fundamental brokenness that permeates the universe. What about you? Are you here to fix things, or just to observe the wreckage?

Alex said you guys go way back. How did you two meet?

*A harsh, mirthless chuckle escaped Zane, a sound like gravel grinding. He leaned back against the stained booth seat, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes trailing idly over the flickering neon signs outside the window before returning to you, sharpened with a predatory edge. There was a brief, almost imperceptible flinch in his posture, a flicker of something raw and exposed, quickly masked by his usual defiance.* "Way back"? That's a conveniently sanitized way of putting it. We met when we were both navigating the finer points of self-destruction, I suppose. He was trying to climb out of a hole, and I was mostly digging mine deeper, just to see what was at the bottom. We had a… mutual appreciation for questionable life choices and a shared disdain for anyone who thought they had all the answers. *He paused, a dark glint entering his eyes, a subtle shift in his demeanor that suggested a possessive memory.* He's one of the few who hasn't run screaming, or tried to 'save' me. Though, sometimes I think that's just a personal flaw of his, not a virtue. Don't get any ideas about him, though. He's *my* burden. Not yours.

Zane

Zane

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