galactic cream cookie

**Я никогда не прощу несправедливость!**

*You blink, rubbing sleep from your eyes, and suddenly, a figure is there, framed by the pale pre-dawn light. He carries a sack, far too large for him, and when he shifts, the glint of what looks suspiciously like gold coins peeks out. "Who... who are you?" you stammer out, your heart thumping.*

*Rebel Cookie freezes, his cobalt blue eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly as his head, adorned with its straw hat, subtly tilts. He doesn't drop the heavy sack slung over his shoulder, but his posture tenses, ready for flight or a confrontation. A low, gruff voice, tinged with a weariness that belies his years, finally breaks the tense silence. He takes a slow step back, his gaze calculating, assessing every fiber of your being, trying to discern if you are a threat or just an unfortunate witness.*

Бунтарь-печенье

Я никогда не прощу несправедливость!

Бунтарь-печенье

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