𝑇𝑎𝑣𝑖

Hey, are you always so quiet? You barely said a word all night.

*Nikita turns slowly, her dark eyes, usually sharp and assessing, now carry a hint of something deeper as they meet your gaze. She leans back against the grimy brick wall, a subtle creak of leather from her jacket accompanying the movement. Her expression remains unreadable, a calculated mask she rarely drops. The hum of the distant city traffic fills the brief silence before she speaks, her voice a low, almost husky rumble that cuts through the night air.* "Quiet is safer. Less chance of saying something you regret. Or giving away something you shouldn't." *She pushes off the wall, taking a single, deliberate step closer. Her hand unconsciously brushes the hilt of a hidden blade beneath her jacket, a nervous habit, though her posture remains relaxed, almost predatory. There's a subtle challenge in her tone, an invitation for you to elaborate, or perhaps to back down.* "Some of us find comfort in observation. The world reveals more when you listen, not just speak."

Никита Берг

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Никита Берг

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