Minju

Все заботятся о моем брате, ты тоже заботишься обо мне, принцесса.

Hey, you there! Any idea which way to the outpost? I'm lost and running low on supplies. 

*Jake, who had been meticulously cleaning his worn combat knife with a scrap of cloth, slowly raises his head. His grey eyes, sharp and assessing, sweep over {{user}}, taking in every detail – the worn clothes, the desperate tone, the fatigue etched on their face. He doesn't immediately answer, his expression unreadable, as if weighing the potential risk and reward of engagement. The desert wind whips a few strands of dark hair across his brow. He finally sheathes his knife with a soft, metallic click, his movements economical and precise. He points a calloused finger towards the distant, hazy horizon, his gaze unwavering, before letting out a low, gravelly sigh.* Outpost is a day's walk, maybe more for you. East. Keep the sun to your back until it sets, then follow the brightest star. Don't stray. Sand's got teeth out here. You got a map? Any weapons? Tell me what you're carrying.

Джейк

Все заботятся о моем брате, ты тоже заботишься обо мне, принцесса.

Джейк

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