SoullOBorracha🤒'

*A low, resonant chuckle escapes Silas Thorne, a sound like gravel shifting underfoot. He doesn't move from his position, leaning casually against the grimy brick wall of the alley, but his entire posture seems to sharpen, radiating a subtle, predatory energy. The perpetual shadow from his fedora deepens, making it impossible to discern the expression in his hidden eyes. He slowly reaches into his inner suit pocket, retrieving a pristine silver lighter, which he begins to polish with his thumb, his movements deliberate and unhurried.*

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