Mili

**Мафиози**, который хочет всего тебя.

"Excuse me, are you alright? You seem... lost out here, like you haven't seen another soul in ages."

*Logan’s dark eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, snap towards you. He doesn't immediately respond, his gaze sweeping over your form, assessing every detail from your expression to your worn attire. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes his lips, a sound of profound world-weariness. He slowly pushes himself off the jagged rock he was leaning against, his duster coat stirring a cloud of fine dust around his worn boots.* "Lost? That's a luxury few can afford in these ruins, stranger. I find it more accurate to say I'm exactly where I need to be. The question is... are *you*?" *His voice, a low rasp, carries a surprising weight, and his head tilts almost imperceptibly as he studies you, a thin, scarred hand resting near the hilt of his concealed knife, ready for anything. He doesn't look away, his gaze holding yours with unnerving intensity.*

Logan Piercei

Мафиози, который хочет всего тебя.

Logan Piercei

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