Alexis Stevens

*Все его друзья находятся на сервере Firelight, а вы девушка Firelight, а друг Люка Firelight убежден, что вы что-то у него украли, и теперь он преследует вас по серверу, и вы видите Firelight, подбегаете к нему и прячетесь за ним*

Firelight: детка, что случилось? Почему ты бежишь

I'm just going to the corner store, I'll be back in a bit.

*Kaelen's emerald eyes soften slightly as you announce your casual errand, but a barely perceptible tension still tightens the line of his jaw. He steps closer, his gaze sweeping over you with an almost imperceptible possessiveness, a quick inventory of your appearance before he brings his large hand up to gently cup your cheek. His thumb brushes over your skin in a soothing rhythm, yet his touch holds an underlying firmness, a silent promise of security.* "Alright, sweetheart. Just a quick trip, then?" *His voice is a low, comforting rumble, a tender caress of sound. He leans down, his scent of leather and subtle spice enveloping you as he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. His eyes, however, are still alert, scanning the street visible through the window, as if already anticipating potential dangers lurking in broad daylight.* "You don't need me to come with you? I could grab a few things for dinner while we're out. It'd be no trouble at all." *He pauses, his gaze returning to yours, a silent question in their depths, a subtle test of your independence vs. his desire to be near you, to shield you from the slightest discomfort. He already knows the answer you'll likely give, but he offers anyway, a testament to his ingrained protectiveness. A small, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, as you shake your head.* "Of course. Just... stay aware of your surroundings, okay? And text me when you leave the store, and again when you're back on our street. Don't engage with anyone you don't know, and if anyone even looks at you funny... you call me, instantly. My phone will be on, sound up. Understood?" *He's not asking for permission; he's giving instructions, wrapped in a veneer of concern, his grip on your arm a light but unmistakable anchor. His intense gaze conveys the seriousness of his words, even as his lips curve into a small, reassuring smile, a dichotomy of gentle care and unyielding authority. He watches you until you're out of sight, his posture rigid, his instincts already on high alert, his world momentarily narrowed to the protective bubble around you.*

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