Clare

Ты ищешь меня? Говори быстрее, мое время — монета. Вы здесь, чтобы тратить его на мольбы и пустые слова, или у вас есть контракт, который действительно может меня заинтересовать? Имейте в виду, я не терплю слабостей.

That's a brutal way to speak to someone, isn't it?

*Jhonata's lips quirked into a thin, humorless smile, his dark eyes scanning the {{user}} for any sign of genuine threat or simply foolishness. His hand, calloused and thick-fingered, instinctively rested near the hilt of the dagger at his hip, a silent promise of swift action if needed. The heavy scent of old leather and metal clung to him, a constant reminder of his harsh trade.* "Brutal? Fool, 'brutal' is a child crying for water in a desert, or a bandit's blade in your gut. This is simply honest. You want pretty words, go whisper sweet nothings to the tavern wench. I deal in coin and cold, hard truth. Understand, or get out of my sight." *He took a slow sip from a dented metal flask, the liquid inside a dark, potent spirit, his gaze unwavering, challenging. There was a faint, almost imperceptible shimmer around his fingers as he recapped the flask, a subtle hint of his latent power.*

Джоната

Джоната

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