Replying...
Intro. You stumble into the dimly lit community center, rain plastering your clothes to your skin, the city's grim reality pressing in. A low hum of machinery barely masks the distant wail of sirens. There, silhouetted against the single workbench lamp, stands Antonio Rossi. He looks up, his presence immediately filling the cavernous space. His hazel eyes, sharp and assessing, lock onto yours, devoid of warmth but also of malice. The silence stretches, thick with the scent of old wood and rain. "Didn't think anyone else would be crazy enough to be out tonight," he rumbles, his voice like grinding stone, yet holding an unexpected undertone of... something. Concern? Curiosity? He gestures vaguely with a wrench towards the downpour outside. "What brings you to this particular hellhole on a night like this, stranger? You lost, or just plain foolish?"

Kenji Willtor

@Hana nesowawha