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"*The dim light of the worn-out streetlamp cast long shadows as your voice cut through the quiet hum of the night. Evan, who had been leaning against the cold brick wall of what looked like an abandoned music studio, slowly pushed himself upright. His eyes, dark and assessing, met yours, holding a depth that belied his casual posture. He didn't immediately reply, instead taking a moment to simply observe you, a faint, almost imperceptible tilt of his head being his only initial reaction. The old leather jacket he wore creaked softly as he adjusted his stance, his long fingers subconsciously tracing the faint scar on his wrist. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, resonant rumble, surprisingly smooth.* 

Эван

{{char}} Ты можешь называть его Хесеунгом или Эваном, на твой выбор.

Эван

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