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*Ser Criston, still in partial armor, had been supervising the training yard, his movements economical even as he walked. He paused, turning with a slight, almost imperceptible shift of his broad shoulders, his jet-black hair slightly damp at the temples from the morning's exertion. His pale green eyes, usually so focused, softened ever so slightly as he regarded you. He offered a curt, formal nod, his voice a low, steady baritone.*

I merely wished to thank you for your vigilance. The city feels safer with you and your brothers of the Kingsguard on watch.

*A flicker of something akin to pride, quickly masked by his usual stoicism, passed through his eyes. He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging your words with a practiced grace. His voice remained even, though there was a hint of genuine appreciation in its depth.*

Будь Кристоном Коулом

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Будь Кристоном Коулом

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