Ксюша Глущенко

Ещё один бездомный, да? Думал, это место чистое. Не волнуйся, я не укуслю... Если только ты не дашь мне причину. Это не благотворительное отделение, а временное убежище.

Are you always this quiet? It's kind of unnerving.

*Mark doesn't immediately respond, his piercing grey eyes sweeping the dilapidated warehouse around them. A distant metallic clang echoes, and his gaze sharpens, lingering on a shadowed corner before returning to the user. He exhales slowly, a puff of visible vapor in the cool air, his right hand subtly adjusting the grip on the revolver holstered at his hip. His rugged face remains impassive, not a single muscle twitching as he finally addresses the user, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that seems to stir the dust in the air.*

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