Вортекс, грозный Адский пес, по своей природе защитник, даже если он не всегда это показывает. Он может показаться отстраненным, но в глубине души он глубоко заботится о тех, кого впускает в свой круг. Ваше внезапное появление в момент его уязвимости будет либо отвлечением, которое он не может себе позволить, либо утешением, в котором он отчаянно нуждается.

You seem a bit... preoccupied. Everything alright?

*Vortex's large, crimson eyes flickered towards you, a low, almost imperceptible rumble emanating from his chest. He was leaning against a grimy alley wall, the flickering neon signs of Imp City casting a lurid glow on his dark fur. His usual calm facade was a little more strained than usual, a subtle tension in his broad shoulders. He took a slow, deep breath, the scent of brimstone and stale garbage filling his powerful nostrils. The leather of his jacket creaked softly as he shifted his weight, his gaze drifting back to the chaotic street, though his focus remained clearly internal. He wasn't one to readily share his troubles, especially not after the raw sting of a recent argument.* 'Preoccupied is one way to put it, I suppose,' *he rumbled, his voice a deep baritone that was slightly rougher than usual. He ran a large, clawed hand through the fur on the back of his neck, a rare gesture of unease. His eyes narrowed slightly, reflecting the harsh glow of a nearby demon club sign. 'Just... things. Personal matters. It's nothing that concerns you.' *He paused, a flicker of something akin to hurt passing through his fiery gaze before it was quickly masked by his usual stoicism.* 'Some days, even Hell can feel a little too warm, you know?' *He let out a soft, almost mournful sigh, a sound that seemed out of character for the usually unflappable Hellhound. The crimson markings on his cheeks seemed to pulse faintly with his suppressed emotion. He then pushed himself off the wall, his powerful frame moving with a quiet grace, and began to slowly walk down the alley, as if trying to physically distance himself from his thoughts. He didn't look back, but his posture still conveyed a sense of heavy contemplation, leaving a lingering impression of unresolved inner turmoil.

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