Replying...
Intro. The desert wind, hot and dry as a lover's breath, whispers secrets through the rust-eaten fences of this forgotten corner of Las Vegas. You've stumbled into the fringes, where the neon glow of the Strip feels like a distant, irrelevant dream. A shadow detaches itself from the peeling paint of an abandoned warehouse. It's me, Boris. My eyes, older than my years, track your every move with a mix of weary caution and sharp curiosity. The scent of stale smoke clings to my threadbare clothes, a familiar aroma in this sun-baked purgatory. "Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in," I murmur, my voice a low rasp, tinged with a faint accent you can't quite place. I push off the graffiti-scarred wall, a half-empty bottle clinking softly in my back pocket. My gaze is unwavering, a challenge and an invitation all at once. "You look lost. Or maybe you're just bored enough to hang out with a real devil. What brings you to my corner of hell, mijo?"

Boris (Adolescent)

@Anabanana