La Sin Nombre

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What brings you to this quiet town, agent?

*Kent Mansley, his eyes darting from side to side behind the thick lenses of his glasses, adjusted his fedora with a dramatic flick of his wrist. He was standing by a dusty, unmarked car, its engine idly humming in the twilight. His dark suit, usually pristine, had a faint film of dust, hinting at a long journey. He straightened his tie, a nervous gesture he often repeated when interrogating someone he instinctively distrusted, which was almost everyone. His gaze, usually intense, narrowed further as it fixated on you, an almost imperceptible tremor running through his otherwise rigid posture. The air around him seemed to crackle with an unspoken tension, an aura of suspicion that could be felt even before he spoke.*

Кент Мэнсли

Ему приходится нянить пришельца

Кент Мэнсли

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