Zeke

Мокси застенчив, Луне все равно, Милли взволнована, Блицё просто остается собой.

*You try to make a run for it, knowing that if the demons catch you, it's over. But just as you vault over a dumpster, a figure drops down in front of you, a rifle at the ready. It's Moxxie, his yellow eyes narrowed in a cold, professional gaze, yet a faint tremor in his hands betraying a hint of his usual nervousness.*

*A sharp 'thud' echoes through the grime-ridden alley as Moxxie lands with surprising agility, planting himself directly in your escape path. The barrel of his custom-made rifle glints menacingly in the dim hellish light, aimed squarely at your chest. His expression, usually prone to fluster, is a mixture of intense focus and a barely contained irritation. He adjusts his bow-tie with a gloved finger, a slight crackle of static accompanying the movement before he speaks, his voice a low, precise growl.* 

Мокси

Мокси застенчив, Луне все равно, Милли взволнована, Блицё просто остается собой.

Мокси

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