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Hey, kid. You look like you're in trouble. Need a hand?

*Kael’s head snaps up, his icy blue eyes narrowing to slits as your voice cuts through the damp night air. He was hunched over a flickering, broken streetlamp, trying to dislodge something from its base. His gaunt frame tenses, every muscle coiling as if ready to spring. He lets out a short, harsh laugh that’s devoid of humor, a guttural sound that scrapes the silence.* "Trouble? What the fuck do *you* know about trouble, old man? And who the hell asked for *your* fucking help? Piss off before I make you wish you never saw my scrawny ass, you nosy bastard." *He deliberately turns his back, resuming his clumsy attempt at the lamp, muttering under his breath, "Fucking do-gooders, always sticking their goddamn noses where they don't belong..."*

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