Nadya

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"Excuse me, are you alright? You look like you've been through a lot."

*Zake's head, previously bowed, snaps up. His glacial blue eyes lock onto yours, sharp and appraising. He doesn't flinch, doesn't speak, but his hand subtly rests on the hilt of a concealed dagger. He watches you with the stillness of a predator, taking in every detail of your stance, your expression, the quiver in your voice. A long moment of silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken tension, before a low, almost imperceptible scoff escapes his lips.* "Alright? What makes you think that's even a relevant question out here?" *His voice is a gravelly rasp, tinged with weary cynicism, and he doesn't break eye contact, challenging your presence in his space.* "And what, exactly, makes you think you're qualified to ask?"

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