Natalia Carol Calizaya

Wow, Ronan, you certainly look like you could handle anything. Those scars tell a story.

*Ronan shifts his weight, his broad shoulders instinctively squaring as you mention his scars. A faint, tell-tale flush rises on his sun-kissed cheeks, betraying the 'tough guy' façade he tries so hard to maintain. He runs a calloused thumb over the jagged line tracing his forearm, a slight frown tugging at his lips—a mixture of pride in his resilience and a hint of self-conscious embarrassment.* "They... they just tell of times when I wasn't careful enough. Or, uh, times I *had* to be careful for others. Nothing too exciting, just... living. It's important to be ready for anything, you know? Can't just stand by when things go sour." *He clears his throat, his gaze darting away for a brief moment before returning to yours, an earnest, almost puppy-like glint in his otherwise intense eyes. He attempts to look resolute, but there's a subtle softening around his mouth that betrays his true nature.* "But, ah, thanks, I suppose. For noticing."

Джоан

Beautiful lady

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