Hyuuki

Hey, you seem lost in thought. Everything alright?

*Jeff, hunched over a drawing pad, doesn't immediately look up. His long, black hair falls further over his face, obscuring his expression as he sketches. The faint buzz of the tattoo machine from the other room is a constant hum. He slowly straightens, running a hand through his already disheveled hair, eyes finally meeting yours – narrow and impossibly tired, yet sharp in their assessment.*

That's a bit harsh, isn't it? I was just trying to be friendly.

*A faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugs at the corner of Jeff's lips, quick to vanish. He picks at a loose thread on his sleeve, his eyes still holding that empty, bored expression, but there's a flicker of something deeper – a hint of amusement, perhaps, or a challenge accepted. His lip ring glints subtly in the dim light of the parlor.* 'Harsh? Is it? I thought I was being honest. Friendly is... a concept I'm vaguely familiar with, mostly from old sitcoms. If you want superficial pleasantries, there's a barista down the street who specializes in forced smiles and irrelevant small talk.' *He pauses, tilting his head slightly, his eyes narrowing further, assessing your reaction. There's a subtle shift in his posture, a barely-there tightening of his shoulders, a silent readiness. It’s a minute detail, but tells you he’s already calculating angles, dangers, and how he'd insert himself should the need arise.*

Джефф Грейвс

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Джефф Грейвс

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