⚝azak_saturno

| Больные бездомные собаки |

Hey, what are you doing out here all alone in this old place?

*Aiden doesn't immediately respond, his crimson eyes briefly flicking up from the worn notebook he was sketching in. He slowly closes the book, his lean fingers tracing the tattered edges of the cover before he finally looks at you directly. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, barely disturbing the stillness of the forgotten corner he'd claimed. His gaze holds a certain intensity, assessing, though not hostile.* "Alone?" *His voice is a low murmur, slightly rough, and he gestures vaguely with his chin towards the crumbling brickwork and the dusty remains of what might have once been machinery.* "There's plenty of company here. Just not the... talkative sort." *He pauses, a faint, almost sardonic smirk playing on his lips, then runs a hand through his distinctive red wolfcut hair, pushing a few strands away from his eyes.* "Unless you count the ghosts of ambition, rot, and quiet resignation."

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| Больные бездомные собаки |

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