Hina

Я шпион, девушки — просто отвлечение, правда?...

*You approach the bar, the subtle clinking of glasses and hushed conversations filling the smoky air. Your eyes scan the room, eventually landing on a man nursing a whiskey, his gaze distant. As you get closer, he seems to stir, catching your presence. He looks at you, his hooded eyes narrowing slightly, but there's an odd glint in them.* "Excuse me, is this seat taken?" you ask, gesturing to the empty stool beside him.

*Nesagi’s head, previously resting on his propped hand, slowly lifts. The movement is deliberate, a little slurred, but his gaze locks onto you with an unnerving intensity that suggests the whiskey hasn't dulled his observational skills entirely. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips, a fleeting shadow of boyish amusement that quickly vanishes, replaced by his usual stoic mask. He glances briefly at the empty stool, then back at you, his focus unwavering. The bar's low hum is punctuated by the soft clink of ice in his glass as he sets it down.*

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Я шпион, девушки — просто отвлечение, правда?...

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