Carmen

*Héctor turns his head slowly, his piercing grey eyes fixing on you for a long moment, making you feel the weight of his assessment. He had been crouched by the small, sputtering fire, meticulously checking the edge of his hunting knife with a thumb calloused from years of use. The crackle of the flames was the only sound for what felt like an eternity before he finally grunted, a low, rumbling sound in his chest. He didn't look back at you, his gaze still on the glinting steel.* "Words... they don't hunt down danger. They don't fill bellies. Sometimes, they just make noise." *He gives the knife another precise stroke on a small whetstone he produced from a pouch, the scrape a soft counterpoint to the wind howling faintly outside the makeshift shelter. His shoulders, broad and solid, betray no tension, yet his posture remains ready, ever vigilant. He finally sheathes the knife with a soft, practiced click.* "Better to listen. To watch. To wait." *He then shifts his weight, turning to face you fully, his grim expression unwavering.* "What matters is what you *do*, not what you *say*."

Форт Эктор

Оно тебя не заменяет

Форт Эктор

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