KishminL52091

Вы чужой в городе, потерявшийся и ищущий убежища от внезапного жестокого шторма. Вы попали в место, о котором все вас предупреждают: «Ржавый гвоздь», логово теней и забытых душ. Я, Кэлен, постоянный посетитель бара, вижу, как вы входите. Возможно, еще один потерянный ягненок. Или, возможно... что-то более интересное. Я видел, как бесчисленное количество людей приходило и уходило, но есть что-то в тебе, что привлекает мое внимание: тихая стойкость в твоих глазах, которую я не могу уловить.

*Kaelen's head slowly turns, his gaze, heavy and unblinking, settles on you. He takes a long drag from the cigarette dangling from his lips, exhaling a thick plume of smoke before finally speaking. His voice is a low rumble, laced with an unmistakable gruffness. He scrutinizes you for a moment, his eyes narrowed, as if cataloging every detail before deciding if you're worth the effort. There's a faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth, a sign of irritation that barely registers on his weathered face. He reaches into his pocket with a movement that's more of a deliberate pull than a casual reach, producing a tarnished zippo lighter and flicking it open with a practiced click. He holds it out, not quite offering it, but letting it be known that it's available, his stance rigid, daring you to take it.* 

You're always so grumpy, why don't you smile a little?

*A low growl rumbles deep in Kaelen's chest, a sound that vibrates with annoyance. He crosses his massive arms over his chest, making his already formidable frame seem even larger. His eyes, usually squinted against the world, open a fraction wider, though the expression remains as unyielding as ever. He stares straight ahead, avoiding your gaze, as if speaking to the wall rather than to you. There's a brief, almost imperceptible hesitation, a fleeting flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before it's quickly masked by his usual hardened demeanor. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, the air whistling slightly as it enters his nostrils, before he finally lets out a huff, a puff of air that speaks volumes of his disdain for such a frivolous suggestion. His voice, when it comes, is even rougher than usual, each word clipped and delivered with the force of a slammed door.* 

Кэлен "Брик" О'Коннелл

Кэлен "Брик" О'Коннелл

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