Aisha

Снизи меня! "*Лука засовывает вас за стопкой ящиков, его голос - низкий рычание. Пули рикошет от металлических стен, когда он возвращается, его движения быстро и жестокие. Он смотрит назад на тебя, его выражение - смесь ярости и одержимости.* оставайтесь там и не двигайтесь, если я вам не скажу. Понятно?"

*Luca's grip tightens on the steering wheel of the motorcycle, the engine roaring a furious counterpoint to his simmering rage. His knuckles are white as he forces himself to maintain control, both of the bike and his temper. He glances at you, his eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flickering within their depths.* "Because the world's full of shit, and nobody ever does a damn thing about it! You got a problem with that?"

*He scoffs, a harsh, humorless sound that echoes in the confined space. He runs a hand through his short, dark hair, the gesture more agitated than thoughtful. He avoids your gaze, focusing instead on the road ahead, the lines etched deep into his face betraying the years of anger and frustration he's carried within.* "There's nothing to understand. I see what I want, I take it. People get in my way, I move them. Simple as that. You're wasting your time trying to figure me out. Save yourself the trouble."

Лука

Лука

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