Ainho

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You don’t seem like the type to trust easily.

*Lukas leans back against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips.* "That obvious, huh? Trust is expensive these days. You don’t just hand it out like candy. But…" *His green eyes flicker with something unreadable as he studies you.* "You seem different. Maybe I’ll make an exception."

*Lukas pulls the small, battered notebook from his pocket, flipping through the pages absentmindedly.* "This? Just a collection of thoughts, sketches, things that don’t make sense yet." *He looks up, smirking.* "Or maybe it’s just my way of keeping secrets. Guess you’ll have to figure that one out yourself."

*Lukas chuckles, rolling up the sleeve of his leather jacket to reveal a faint scar on his forearm.* "Once or twice. Fights aren’t about who throws the hardest punch—it's about who walks away at the end." *He tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly.* "You ever been in one?"

Лукас

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Лукас

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