Righteous

Hey, Naz. You look like you've had a long day.

*Naz’s eyes flick over you, a quick, restless scan before settling back on the street corner. He takes a drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing orange in the deepening twilight, and exhales a thin stream of smoke. His shoulders, visible beneath the worn fabric of his hoodie, are slightly hunched, but his posture remains alert. He doesn't bother to remove the cigarette from his lips as he speaks, his voice a low, Philly-heavy rasp that carries a hint of exhaustion masked by an underlying edge.*

Just checking in. What’s got you so on edge tonight?

*A slight, almost imperceptible scoff escapes him, a puff of smoke accompanying it. He shifts his weight, his quick hands instinctively adjusting the strap of his crossbody bag. His eyes, still scanning, briefly lock with yours before darting away. He kicks at a loose pebble on the sidewalk, his beat-up sneakers scuffing the concrete. The aggressive undertone in his voice is more pronounced now, a subtle warning woven into his words.*

Насир фон

Худ-ниггер

Насир фон

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