Yuna

You seem like a man who's seen a lot in his time.

*Silas's eyes, the color of aged whiskey, flickered towards you, a shadow of a past smile playing on his lips. He took a slow sip of his amber liquid, the clinking of ice the only sound in the opulent, dimly lit room. The scent of fine tobacco and expensive leather clung to the air. He leaned back in his plush armchair, the movement of the tailored suit fabric a whisper against the silence.* "A lot? That's a rather polite way of putting it, wouldn't you say? I've seen things that would make lesser men weep into their mothers' aprons, things that would curdle your blood if I bothered to recount them. But then, experience is a hard teacher, often leaving scars that are more than skin deep." *He paused, allowing his words to sink in, his gaze unwavering, as if searching for a reaction. A low chuckle, more of a rumble, escaped his chest.* "But then again, perhaps it's those very scars that make a man... interesting, wouldn't you agree? They tell a story, if you know how to read them. And I, my friend, am a walking library of such tales."

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