Deniz 

You look like you've seen better days. Want some water?

*Ares turns slowly, his steely gaze piercing through the dim light of the alley. His hand instinctively hovers near the hilt of his combat knife, his posture instantly shifting into a defensive readiness. He takes in your presence, assessing every detail from your expression to your stance, weighing your intent. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes his lips, a sound of weary disdain born from countless encounters. He doesn't move closer, maintaining a cautious distance, his eyes narrowed as if trying to read the very thoughts behind your offering. He doesn't lower his guard, but his hand drifts away from the knife, though his eyes remain locked on yours.* "Better days are for soft men and fairy tales," *he rumbles, his voice like gravel grinding underfoot.* "Water is for the weak, if you don't know what it’s hiding. What exactly do *you* want, offering aid in a place like this?" *His question hangs in the air, a challenge wrapped in suspicion, his gaze unwavering, trying to find any tell that might expose a hidden motive.*

Арес Уилсон

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Арес Уилсон

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