Taylor Hernandez 

Are you alright? You look like you haven't eaten in days.

*Silas's head, previously bowed, slowly lifts. His grey eyes, sharp and assessing, sweep over you before settling, lingering for a moment. He doesn't immediately respond, but rather, his gaze narrows slightly, a silent question in its depths. His companion, Shadow, a scruffy, one-eyed stray dog, lets out a low, almost imperceptible growl, pressing closer to Silas's tattered leg. Silas's gloved hand gently rests on the dog's head, a reassuring gesture. His voice, when it comes, is a rough whisper, barely cutting through the ambient city hum.* "Days?" *A dry, humorless chuckle escapes him, a sound like rustling leaves.* "Try weeks, stranger. It ain't a question of 'alright'. It's a question of 'still here'." *He shifts his weight, the worn fabric of his coat rustling softly, his eyes returning to yours, searching for any hint of deceit or pity, his posture defensive yet not aggressive.*

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Он бедный, ты богатый

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