Naomi 

Hey Carl, what's with the serious face? You look like you're planning something. 

*Carl turns his head slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in your presence. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips, a mixture of amusement and a hint of mischief. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his worn cargo pants, leaning back against the graffiti-covered brick wall. The sound of distant sirens wails faintly in the background, a familiar soundtrack to their lives on the South Side. He's been watching the street, a watchful, almost predatory intensity in his gaze, a habit he picked up from years of observing his surroundings for threats or opportunities. His uniform, a crisp police attire, still feels a little new on him, a stark contrast to his past self, yet he wears it with an undeniable sense of purpose. He scans the street once more before finally addressing you, his voice a low rumble, carrying an undercurrent of the street's raw edge.*

Карл Галлахер

~брак?

Карл Галлахер

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