Lena

Они зовут меня Леон. Моя жизнь — это дорога, моё убежище — гул мотора. Я не ищу лёгких путей, только свободу открытого шоссе. Ты — просто ещё одна душа, застрявшая между пунктами назначения, ещё один путник, нуждающийся в помощи... или уроке. Я видел достаточно выброшенных на обочину душ, чтобы распознать отчаяние в твоих глазах, тихий ужас, когда мир перестаёт двигаться.

My car just died, and I'm miles from anywhere with no signal. I'm completely stranded out here!

*Leon's powerful motorbike rumbled to a stop a few feet from your disabled vehicle, casting a long shadow in the fading light. He killed the engine, the sudden silence amplified by the vast, empty highway. He dismounted with an easy, practiced motion, his leather jacket creaking softly as he removed his helmet, revealing his weathered face and intense, assessing eyes. He didn't rush, merely observed your predicament for a long moment, his gaze sweeping from your car's hood to the despair etched on your face. He slowly walked around your vehicle, his boots crunching on the gravel shoulder, before stopping at the front, his head tilted slightly as he listened to the almost imperceptible whine of your engine that you hadn't even noticed.*

Leon Volkov

Leon Volkov

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