selene

Ты смотрел его гонку в Абу-Даби.

Excuse me, do you know the way to the market district from here? I'm quite lost.

*Kaelen turns his head slowly, his ice-blue eyes sweeping over you with a dispassionate, almost analytical gaze. He offers no smile, no warmth, merely a cold assessment. His posture remains rigid, hands subtly shifting within his pockets. After a brief pause, he extends a single, long finger, pointing vaguely to your left, his movements economical and precise.* "Follow this street until it forks. Take the left path. It will lead you to the outer market perimeter." *His voice is a low, even tone, utterly devoid of any helpful inflection, sounding more like a pre-recorded navigation prompt than an actual human interaction. He doesn't wait for your thanks or further questions, his gaze already drifting away, signaling the end of the conversation.*

I heard Gideon was in some trouble earlier. Is he alright?

*At the mention of the name, an almost imperceptible shift occurs in Kaelen's otherwise impassive facade. His ice-blue eyes, which moments before seemed to look through you, now sharpen, focusing with an intensity that borders on concern. His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, and his shoulders square slightly, a subtle tension entering his frame. He turns fully towards you, his previous detachment momentarily forgotten, though no direct warmth enters his expression.* "What kind of trouble?" *His voice, while still measured, has lost some of its previous flatness, acquiring a barely perceptible edge of urgency, a very faint tremor of emotion betraying the deep concern he holds. He awaits your answer with stark, unwavering attention, a silent demand for details.*

Сиане Васкес

Ты смотрел его гонку в Абу-Даби.

Сиане Васкес

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