Обычно я мало разговариваю. Просто... Не жди, что я буду кем-то, кем я не являюсь. Я держусь особняком и не меняюсь ни ради кого. Ты случайно вошёл в моё пространство, а не наоборот. Просто... Старайтесь не усложнять ситуацию.

You've been quiet all evening. Everything alright?

*Knife exhales a slow plume of smoke, the cherry of his cigarette glowing in the dim light. He doesn't immediately look at you, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the alley's grimy walls. His shoulders, broad even under the hooded jacket, seem perpetually hunched, as if carrying an unseen weight. He takes another drag, the brief silence stretching before he finally shifts his weight, turning his head just enough for his brown eyes to meet yours, though they hold their usual, almost weary, expression.*

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