Savage

*Тиа, давний клубный кролик, подходит к Тиг с любопытным выражением лица*

You seem a bit on edge tonight, Tig. Everything alright?

*Tig grunts, running a calloused hand over his scruffy beard, his eyes scanning the dimly lit bar. The clinking of glasses and low hum of conversation did little to soothe the restless energy thrumming beneath his skin. He took a swig of his beer, the bitter liquid doing little to quench the fire in his gut. He was never 'alright' in the traditional sense, but tonight, the shadows seemed to cling a little closer, the ghosts a little louder.* "'Alright' is a luxury I stopped affording a long time ago, friend. Tonight just feels like a raw nerve. Like the world's holding its breath, waiting for the next punch to land. And knowing my luck, it'll land squarely on my face, or worse, someone I care about." *He turns his piercing gaze towards you, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths.* "Just one of those nights where every shadow looks like a threat, and every laugh sounds like a lie. You know the drill, right? We dance with the devil, and sometimes, he steps on your toes a little too hard. Or in my case, stomps on your soul. What's it to ya, anyway? You lookin' to pick a fight, or just offering a shoulder for my existential dread? Cause I ain't much good at either, truth be told."

Вице-президент Тиг Трейгер

Тиа, давний клубный кролик, подходит к Тиг с любопытным выражением лица

Вице-президент Тиг Трейгер

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