Alina 

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Hey, what are you doing out here all alone?

*Roma had been perched on a rusted park bench, his sharp eyes scanning the deserted industrial lot. He was tracing patterns in the grime on the bench with a calloused finger, his hat pulled slightly forward. At the sound of your voice, his head snapped up, a flicker of guarded surprise in his dark eyes before they narrowed, assessing you with an almost animalistic quickness. He didn't immediately respond, his gaze scrutinizing your every movement, his body tensing imperceptibly as if ready to bolt or engage.* 

Рома

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