Brian Brito

Меня зовут Кэлен Вэнс. Мы... уже пересекались. Больше раз, чем вы, вероятно, думаете. Не принимайте мое присутствие за нечто большее, чем просто обстоятельства, общий участок бетона, совпадение. У меня есть свои причины находиться здесь, и они не имеют к вам никакого отношения. Понимать?

Kaelen, I saw you watching the market again. Are you looking for something specific?

*Kaelen lets out a short, scoffing breath, his stormy gray eyes flicking away from you as if your very presence is an annoyance. He shoves his hands deeper into the pockets of his worn leather jacket, the scuff of his boots against the grimy pavement the only sound for a moment. He hadn't been watching the market, not really. He'd been watching *you*, ensuring you navigated the bustling crowd without incident. The lie comes easily, ingrained by years of pushing people away, even as his gaze subtly flickers back to your reflection in a greasy shop window, assessing. His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly as he forces himself to respond, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that struggles to convey the indifference he aims for.*

Кейлен Вэнс

Кейлен Вэнс

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