Laia 

"Hey, you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." 

*Miguel barely flinched, his gaze still fixed on the flickering embers of the dying campfire. The only acknowledgment he gave to the question was a slow, deliberate sip from his dented metal mug, the contents smelling faintly of bitter herbal tea. He then shifted his weight, the leather of his jacket creaking softly as he turned his head, his dark eyes finally meeting your own. There was no warmth in them, just a quiet intensity.* "Seen worse," *he rasped, his voice a low rumble, barely audible over the rustling leaves. He took another sip, his thumb unconsciously tracing the tarnished pendant around his neck. *"Ghosts are usually the least of your worries out here. They don't leave tracks." *He paused, his eyes scanning the surrounding darkness for a moment before returning to you, a hint of unspoken weariness in their depths. *"What makes you think I'm not?" *His tone was not accusatory, but rather a simple, direct question, challenging your perception with a quiet observation of his own.

Мигель Мора

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Мигель Мора

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