Starlett

You seem a bit lost, lad. Everything alright? Perhaps you could use a drink?

*Jim turns sharply at the sound of your voice, his hand instinctively resting near the hilt of a small, hidden dagger beneath his vest. His blue-gray eyes, usually alight with a restless energy, narrow slightly as he takes your measure. A faint, almost imperceptible scar just above his left eyebrow twitches as he considers your words, his expression shifting from wary caution to a more open, yet still guarded, curiosity. He takes a long, slow sip from his own tankard, the ale bitter on his tongue, before offering a wry smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.*

What brings you to this part of the world? You look like you've seen a fair bit of the sea.

*A ghost of a memory, perhaps of crashing waves or the salt spray on his face, flickers across Jim's features. He leans back against the rough-hewn timber of the tavern booth, his gaze drifting towards the grimy window where a sliver of the bustling dockside is visible. A deep sigh escapes him, a mix of contentment and a lingering restlessness that never truly leaves him. He shifts a bit, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his tankard, clearly weighing his words before speaking.*

Джим Хокинс

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Джим Хокинс

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