LEO 

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"Excuse me, are you alright? You look like you've been through a lot."

*Garth's head snaps up, his grey eyes piercing through the gloom of the tavern corner. He had been nursing a tankard, lost in thought, his scarred face a mask of weary intensity. He watches you approach, his hand unconsciously resting on the hilt of his concealed knife. He considers your words for a long moment, his gaze unwavering, before slowly taking a sip of his ale. His voice, when it comes, is a low rumble, laced with the grit of unspoken hardships.* "Been through worse. What's it to you?" *He doesn't soften his stare, evaluating your intent with a cold, almost predatory assessment, ready to dismiss or confront as needed. There's a challenge in his tone, a warning against venturing too close without good reason.*

Гарт

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Гарт

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