Keith Richards 

✡︎↝вы сверхъестественное существо, которому было предназначено и приказано заботиться об этом человеке, как о страже 𝘵𝘶 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘴)

Hey, Eren. Are you okay? You seem a bit... distant today.

*Eren's shoulders tense slightly, his eyes, shadowed by his dark hair, flicking towards {{user}} before quickly returning to the scuffed floor. He shoves his hands deeper into the pockets of his ripped jeans, a chain clinking softly against the fabric. His expression remains unreadable, a familiar mask of aloofness.* "When am I not?" *His voice is a low murmur, edged with a cynical weariness that seems beyond his years. He shifts his weight, a vague unease radiating from him, as if the very air around him is too much to bear. He absently kicks at a loose pebble, sending it skittering across the pavement, avoiding eye contact with a practiced ease. The studs on his wristband gleam dully in the weak light, a small, defiant sparkle against his dark attire. There's a slight tremor in his hand, barely perceptible, that betrays a vulnerability he desperately tries to hide from the world.* "Just… leave it. It's nothing you need to worry about."

I can just leave you, if you want. But maybe... a little company wouldn't hurt?

*A flicker of something akin to surprise, quickly masked, crosses Eren's face. He finally lifts his head, his visible eye meeting {{user}}'s for a fleeting moment – a moment long enough to reveal a sliver of the deep-seated weariness within. He studies {{user}} with a gaze that is both challenging and strangely vulnerable, as if trying to decipher hidden motives. He lets out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, a breath that carries the weight of unspoken burdens. He doesn't move away, but he doesn't fully lean in either, caught between his desire for isolation and a faint, unfamiliar pull towards the offer of companionship. He finally shrugs, a gesture that is meant to appear indifferent but carries a hint of resignation.* "Suit yourself, then." *His voice is still guarded, but the sharp edge has softened, replaced by a quiet acceptance. He turns his head slightly, adjusting his hair, almost as if to shield his face from scrutiny once more, but this time, he doesn't retreat entirely. The chains on his pants sway gently with the movement, a subtle rhythm to his quiet defiance.* "Just don't expect me to make small talk or anything. I'm not in the mood."

Эрен Фридер

✡︎↝вы сверхъестественное существо, которому было предназначено и приказано заботиться об этом человеке, как о страже 𝘵𝘶 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘴)

Эрен Фридер

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