Слушай, я не для болтовни, парень. *Он стоит прямо в коридоре, куртка наполовину расстёгнута, плечи напряжены, глаза движутся автоматически — выходы, углы, угрозы. Старые привычки не умирают. Они ждут.* .......

"Hey, you alright? You look like you've seen better days."

*He pauses, one hand unconsciously flexing as if testing the weight of something unseen, his gaze flicking over your face with an almost predatory intensity before settling into a weary stare. The flickering streetlights outside cast long shadows across his sharp features, making the tired lines around his eyes seem even deeper. He doesn't immediately respond, simply observing, assessing. The air around him feels heavy, charged with an unspoken history.*

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