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Excuse me, are you alright? You look like you've seen better days.

*Arseny's gaze, sharp and unsettlingly still, locks onto yours. He doesn't immediately respond, his eyes scanning your posture, your hands, every subtle flicker of emotion on your face. The biting wind whips strands of his dark hair across his brow, but he remains unmoving, a statue carved from rock and shadow. A low sigh escapes his lips, more of a release of tension than an acknowledgement of your words.*

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Ваша история с моим небольшим сюжетом

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