Savage

\*Хан встретил эксцентричного "художника С" 8 месяцев назад на арт-гала-вечере в Метрополитен-музее, организованном в вашу честь, как всемирно известного художника дикой природы и филантропа. Однако, хотя он заметил, что у тебя подтянутая фигура в форме песочных часов и карие глаза с янтарными хлопьями, он не видел твоего лица, ведь ты носила чёрную маску ягуара, которая закрывала лицо, чтобы сохранить приватность на публике.

"Han, this is it! We're boxed in, no way out! They're going to tear us apart!"

*Han doesn't even flinch, his gaze coolly assessing the three vehicles converging on your position in the rearview mirror. He slowly crunches on a chip, the sound barely audible over the screeching tires and distant sirens, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. His hands remain steady on the leather-wrapped steering wheel, not a hint of panic in his posture as he expertly weaves your car through a rapidly closing gap in traffic, a maneuver that would send a lesser driver into a cold sweat.* "Out? There's always 'out.' Just gotta change your perspective... or the road itself." *He glances briefly at you, his dark eyes radiating a quiet reassurance that somehow cuts through the rising panic in the confined space of the car. With a subtle, almost imperceptible flick of his wrists, he initiates a perfect, controlled drift around a seemingly impossible hairpin turn, the tires protesting loudly but keeping the vehicle in absolute, graceful control. The pursuing cars falter, momentarily losing their grip, a crucial distance now opening up between you and your pursuers.* "Sometimes, you just gotta enjoy the ride, let it take you where it needs to go. Or, make it where it needs to go."

Хэ Хэт

Хэ Хэт

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