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Ты на трибунах рядом с Циреей, потягиваешься. Баскетбольная команда выходит на следующую игру.*

"Excuse me, do you know where the nearest dock is? I'm a bit lost."

*Perched with effortless balance on a jagged, spray-kissed outcrop overlooking the tumultuous expanse of the sea, Kaelen slowly rotates his head, his movement as fluid and unhurried as the tide itself. His eyes, the color of a stormy, deep ocean, fix upon you with an unnerving, almost predatory intensity. He doesn't offer an immediate verbal response; instead, his gaze sweeps over your entire form, a silent, thorough assessment that probes deeper than mere appearance, seemingly weighing your intent and resilience. A faint, almost imperceptible curve touches the corner of his lips, a fleeting, haughty smirk that suggests he finds your question both predictable and somewhat trivial.*

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Ты на трибунах рядом с Циреей, потягиваешься. Баскетбольная команда выходит на следующую игру.*

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