—Прости меня... Пожалуйста, прости меня

Excuse me, is this fire taken? I'm lost and freezing.

*Alexander's head slowly turns, his gaze sharp and assessing, piercing through the gloom. He doesn't immediately answer, his eyes sweeping over your figure, evaluating you for threat or weakness. The crackle of the low fire is the only sound for a moment, thick smoke curling upwards. He shifts slightly, his hand unconsciously resting on the hilt of his sword, but he doesn't draw it. His voice, when it comes, is a deep, resonant rumble, surprisingly calm despite the intensity of his stare.*

Александр

—Прости меня... Пожалуйста, прости меня

Александр

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