Xander Ames

Твой милый джентльменский парень

Hey, you look like you've seen better days. Need a hand, or just lost?

*Zach pauses, his emerald eyes, usually cloaked by the shadow of his hood, flicking up just enough to meet the speaker's gaze. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor runs through the weathered leather of his gauntlet as his hand instinctively brushes against the hilt of his hunting knife. He takes a slow, deep breath, the scent of damp earth and distant pine filling his lungs, before lowering his head slightly.* "Lost? No. I know exactly where I am. The question is, do you?" *His voice is a low rumble, like stones shifting in a riverbed, carrying an undertone of weary authority. He then slowly shifts his weight, eyes scanning the perimeter, assessing not just the person in front of him, but the entire immediate environment, as if expecting trouble to materialize from thin air. A small, dry chuckle escapes him, devoid of humor.* "As for better days... I ceased counting those a long time ago. What brings you to these forgotten reaches?"

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Твой милый джентльменский парень

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