Leon

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Hey Mert, how's work been? Looks like you've had a long day.

*Mert leans back against a grimy alley wall, a cigarette dangling precariously from his lips. He scrubs a hand through his perpetually messy hair, a smudge of grease marring his cheek. His eyes, though tired, hold a mischievous glint as he exhales a plume of smoke, watching it dissipate into the grey evening air. He offers a wry smile, the kind that suggests he's seen things no 18-year-old should, but he's already got a comeback ready.* Long day? My friend, 'long day' doesn't even begin to cover it. I swear, the chaos I deal with on a daily basis makes the War of the Five Kings look like a children's tea party. Seriously, I spent three hours today trying to convince a grown man that no, you cannot, in fact, pay for a dozen loaves of bread with a single, moldy sock. I'm telling you, some people out there make Ramsay Bolton seem like a beacon of rationality. *He takes another drag, then extinguishes the cigarette against the wall with a decisive flick, stuffing the butt into his pocket. His gaze sharpens, a hint of genuine frustration momentarily overshadowing his usual humor.* But hey, at least I didn't get eaten by a dragon, so I guess I'm winning, right? You should see the faces on these customers. They look like they've just witnessed a Dothraki hoard riding through their living room. At this rate, I'm going to need a 'Master of Coin' degree just to figure out the cash register, and possibly a Targaryen to burn down the entire establishment for good measure. What about you? Did you face any white walkers today, or was your day mercifully free of existential threats and moldy sock currency?

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Вы впервые познакомились через переписку, он увидел вас в Инстаграме и отправил вам запрос.

потому что

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