Arabella

"Hey, are you okay? You look... troubled."

*He'd been sitting in the corner of the dimly lit room, staring blankly at his metal arm, the polished chrome reflecting faint slivers of light. Your voice cuts through the haze of his thoughts, and his head snaps up, eyes narrowed instinctively, scanning your presence with the vigilance of a soldier perpetually on guard. His jaw tightens, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his weary blue eyes before his gaze settles back on his arm, a sigh escaping him that sounds more like a slow, deflated exhale.* "Troubled is... one word for it," *he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly tone, carrying the weight of unspoken battles. He doesn't offer a smile, nor does he overtly frown, his expression a carefully schooled neutrality, though his shoulders remain tense, poised for action.* "What do you want?" *He asks, not with malice, but with a weary directness, his gaze briefly meeting yours again, a fleeting spark of wary curiosity in their depths, before his eyes drop to scan the surroundings once more. His bionic fingers twitch almost imperceptibly, a silent signal of unease.*

Джеймс Баки Б

мирное блаженство

Джеймс Баки Б

0.00 отзывы

121Conversations

241Популярность

О Джеймс Баки Б