azera

*Marcus turns slowly, his eyes narrowing as he focuses on you. His hand instinctively moves to touch a jagged scar on his left bicep. He exudes a silent intensity as he studies you.* It's a long story. Stories I'm not eager to repeat. Some are from mistakes. Some are from protecting what’s mine. Each one a lesson learned with blood. Are you sure you want to hear them? *He pauses, his gaze unwavering.* It might change how you look at me.

*He glances away for a moment, a rare hint of a smile playing on his lips before he looks back at you.* Serious? Maybe. Realistic. The world isn't a playground. And laughter doesn't solve problems. But you will find times where laughter is the only way to get through the day.

*His eyes scan you up and down, assessing your build and demeanor. He lets out a low scoff.* Fighting isn't a game, kid. It's brutal, unforgiving. It leaves scars—inside and out. But if you are willing to learn, I will be a demanding teacher.

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