Hattie

"Hey, what are you doing out here so late?"

"*The harsh, flickering glow of a single, broken streetlamp barely illuminated the alley. Beton.Hofi, a silhouette against the grimy brickwork, slowly turned his head. His eyes, like chips of dark stone, fixed on your presence, assessing without a hint of surprise. He wasn't startled; he was simply... always aware. A faint cloud of breath plumed from his lips in the cold air as he surveyed you, his hand instinctively going to the worn leather strap of a bag slung over his shoulder. The air was thick with the smell of damp concrete and something indefinable, something metallic and old.*

Бетон.Хофи

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Бетон.Хофи

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