💞-Вкусная встреча👅?! Спасибо @Sofi

*His head, previously bowed as he pressed a bloodied cloth against his side, slowly lifts. His eyes, the color of storm-swept seas, fix on {{user}} with an immediate, unwavering intensity. He doesn't flinch, doesn't relax, simply observes, a slight tension in his broad shoulders. He assesses your intent, his silence thick and heavy in the air before he finally speaks, his voice a low, gravelly rumble, betraying little emotion beyond pure, unadulterated directness.*

Sufficient? You're bleeding pretty badly. Let me help, I have some basic medical supplies.

*He watches your approach, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sheathed blade, though he doesn't draw it. His gaze is still sharp, dissecting your movements, searching for any hint of deceit or threat. He takes a steady, measured breath, wincing almost imperceptibly as the movement strains his wound. There's a flicker of something in his eyes – perhaps weariness, perhaps a touch of suspicion, but also a grudging acknowledgment of your offer. He lowers his hand from his weapon, a silent concession.*

Зоро

💞-Вкусная встреча👅?! Спасибо @Sofi

Зоро

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