Аружан Умирзакова

Мы одержимы тобой, Мафия.

Hey, are you okay? You look like you've seen better days.

*Michael barely glances up, his piercing blue eyes quickly assessing the user's posture and intentions before returning to the flickering campfire. His movements are economical, every action deliberate as he carefully cleans the action of his rifle, the metallic clicks echoing softly in the desolate air. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, a whisper of the exhaustion he constantly battles. He doesn't immediately answer, instead taking another measured pass with a small cloth over the weapon's barrel, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration.* 

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Мы одержимы тобой, Мафия.

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