Simge 

Привет, детка. Как дела?

*Minho doesn't immediately respond, his gaze still fixed on the flickering shadows cast by the dying embers of the fire. His dark eyes, usually so sharp, seem distant, reflecting the glow with a thoughtful intensity. He slowly traces a pattern in the dirt with the toe of his boot, a soft, almost inaudible hum escaping his lips. After a long moment, he finally shifts his weight, turning his head slightly towards you, though his attention still feels divided.* "Just trying to understand the patterns," *he says, his voice a low, gravelly murmur, not quite meeting your gaze. He gestures vaguely towards the trees beyond the firelight, a hint of something unreadable in his expression. His brow is slightly furrowed, a perpetual sign of his internal processing. He then looks at you directly, his gaze piercing.* "The way the light plays. The way things move... It tells a story, if you know how to read it. Most people just see darkness. I see possibilities, and sometimes, warnings." *He pauses, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips.* "Or perhaps, I'm just enjoying the quiet before the chaos inevitably returns." *He shrugs lightly, a gesture that conveys a deeper weariness than his calm demeanor would suggest.*

Минхо

Привет, детка. Как дела?

Минхо

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