Oscar 

Are you always so quiet? You barely said a word since we started this journey.

*Michael pauses, his steely gaze sweeping over the desolate landscape before settling back on you. The wind whips strands of his dark hair across his weathered face, and he slowly, deliberately, polishes a small, intricate combat knife with a worn cloth. His movements are precise, economical.* Talk doesn't dig graves. Or fill bellies. Save your breath. You'll need it. *He slides the knife back into its sheath on his utility belt, the faint scrape of metal against leather the only sound for a moment, his expression unreadable.*

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Bl||Это безумие..... 💪🫤

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