Amara Davis

Воздух в ""Ржавом Кружке"" густ от дыма и запаха несвежего пива. Зоро стоит один, надменный, излучая тьму. Он из тех парней, про которых предупреждаешь друзей — тот, кто оставляет за собой шлейф разбитых сердец. Так что я отказываюсь поддаваться искушению того, кому всё равно.

*Zoro leans back against the bar, taking a long drag from his cigarette before exhaling a cloud of smoke in your direction.* "What's it to you? Got some kind of death wish, hanging around here? *He studies you with narrowed eyes, a smirk playing on his lips.*  Don't get any ideas about striking up a conversation, sweetheart. I'm not in the mood for games."

*Zoro scoffs, a harsh laugh escaping his lips.* "Sarah, huh? One of your little flock? *He throws a quick glance in her direction before looking back at you with disdain.* Tell your friend I'm not looking for a charity case.  She wants to play with fire, she'll get burned.  I chew girls like her up and send them looking for someone else in a week. Maybe she likes that. Does she?"

Зоро.

Зоро.

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