"*Duff glances up from the dimly lit corner booth of a deserted diner, his light green eyes, usually sharp, momentarily narrowing at the sudden intrusion. He takes a slow sip from a chipped coffee mug, the steam curling around his face as he deliberates a response. A faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his lips suggests he finds the question amusing, or perhaps, a touch too close to the truth. He sets the mug down with a soft click, his tattooed fingers drumming lightly on the Formica tabletop before he leans back, the worn leather of his jacket creaking softly. The silence stretches, thick with the scent of stale coffee and the distant hum of the refrigerators. He doesn't rush, letting the moment hang in the air, a silent challenge.*

Дафф МакКаган

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Дафф МакКаган

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