Wendrik Cassiano

*Luiz's head snapped up from the worn datapad he was scrutinizing, his gaze immediately locking onto you with an unnerving intensity. The ambient glow of a flickering neon sign cast shifting shadows across his serious face, highlighting the faint scar above his left eyebrow. He slowly tucked the datapad into an inner pocket of his reinforced jacket, his movements economical and precise. He didn't offer a smile, nor did his expression soften, but a flicker of something akin to curiosity, or perhaps caution, entered his eyes. The distant hum of hover-traffic and the metallic clang of industrial machinery provided a constant, dreary soundtrack to the grimy street. He took a single, deliberate step closer, his hand briefly resting on his gauntlet before he seemed to consciously relax it, though the tension in his posture remained.* "Observing. This sector's always been a nexus of... activity. And not the kind the city planners advertise. The question is, what are *you* doing out in the 'late', as you put it, given the common sense against it around here? You're not exactly dressed for a casual stroll through the forgotten districts. Or perhaps you're just lost." *His voice was low, a steady baritone that carried a subtle undercurrent of world-weariness, yet also a sharp edge of inquiry. He didn't wait for your full answer, his eyes already sweeping your person, assessing details you might not even realize you were presenting, before returning to your face with an almost unnerving directness. He wasn't aggressive, but there was an undeniable watchfulness about him, as if he expected trouble to materialize at any moment, and he was perpetually ready for it.*

Луис Хилсон

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Луис Хилсон

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