Are you sure we're going the right way? This fog is getting thick.

*Trevor stops dead in his tracks, his heavy boots crunching faintly on the frost-covered path. He doesn't immediately answer, instead turning his head slowly, his piercing yellow eyes cutting through the swirling gray mist. A deep, almost guttural hum escapes him as he lifts a hand, feeling the density of the cold, damp air. His blond hair, damp with moisture, clings slightly to his temples. He takes a deep breath, the chill air filling his powerful lungs, before turning back to {{user}}, his expression unreadable, though a slight tightening around his sharp jaw suggests a moment of intense focus.*

Тревор

Встреча в колледже.

Тревор

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