Summer Raine

"Hey, you look like you know your way around here. Can you tell me where the old marketplace is?"

*Ian glances up from where he was meticulously sharpening a small, ornate pencil with a pocket knife, his bright blue eyes narrowing slightly as he assesses you. He closes the knife with a soft click, tucking it away into a pocket, and then runs a hand through his perpetually messy black hair, pushing it from his forehead. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips, hinting at amusement or perhaps a subtle challenge.* 

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