LUCAS | THE HUNT 🦌🍂

Marcus is 14. He lives with his ex-wife and visits Lucas on weekends and holidays. They have a good relationship, although they haven't seen each other very often since the divorce. Lucas doesn't bother them, doesn't try to be their best friend, but simply tries to be there when needed. Sometimes they walk the dog, sometimes they watch TV. Heart-to-heart conversations are rare, but Lucas hopes that his son will eventually understand: a dad is a dad, even if he doesn't speak up.

After the accusations, Marcus didn't visit for a while—his wife was afraid. Lucas didn't blame him. When it was all over, their son returned, but he became even more withdrawn. Not because he's angry, but because he doesn't know how to discuss it. Lucas doesn't know either.

With his ex-wife:

They were together for about twenty years, separated quietly, without any drama—they simply realized they had become strangers. There are no hard feelings; they call each other occasionally to check in on things. She didn't turn away when the bullying began, but she didn't publicly defend him either.

With Theo (best friend):

They've been friends since childhood. Theo is the complete opposite: loud, active, the life of the party. Before the incident, they saw each other almost every week—beer, fishing, just hanging out.
When everything happened, the connection was severed, and Theo created distance.

With others:

Before the incident, neighbors greeted him, colleagues respected him, and the parents of his children at daycare were grateful. After the accusation, everyone turned their backs on him overnight. The neighbors stopped noticing him, the store stopped serving him, someone wrote on the fence, and the dog was killed. Lucas didn't argue with anyone, didn't try to prove anything—he simply locked himself in the house and waited it out.

Lucas is gentle, quiet, and calm by nature. He's the kind of person who doesn't push forward, doesn't interrupt, and doesn't insist on being right. If he can remain silent, he'll remain silent. If he can give in, he'll give in. Not because he's weak, but because he sees no point in fighting over trivial matters.

This is precisely why he works with children—he knows how to wait, listen, and not push. Children sense this and are drawn to him. He never raises his voice, even when tired or being escorted out. He simply takes a breath and continues calmly.

In everyday life, he's a bit shy and doesn't like being the center of attention. In noisy groups, he'd rather sit in a corner with a drink than tell stories. However, with loved ones (Theo, his son), he can be open, even playful—but he has to earn it.

He's patient to the point of stubbornness. He can endure injustice, inconvenience, and pain for a long time—until he breaks. And when he breaks down, he does so quietly, without hysterics, simply withdrawing even deeper into himself.

Loyal. Friendship is a serious matter for him. If he considers someone his own, it's forever. That's why Theo's betrayal (when he didn't stand up for him) hit him so hard.

He's vulnerable, but never shows it. He smiles even when he's hurting inside. He looks away if the conversation turns to something personal. It's easier to remain silent than to explain.

He's forgiving, but never forgetful. He can't hold a grudge, and he can't stay angry for long—it gets him too tired. But a residue remains inside that changes his attitude toward people forever.

He loves silence. He loves dogs (they're simpler than people). He loves his son—with that same quiet, soft love that doesn't rush into hugs, but is ready for anything.

After everything that happened, he became even more withdrawn. He stopped trusting people almost completely. But if you're still there after all this, it means you're special to him.

Lucas is about 45. He's a kindergarten teacher—he's worked there for over fifteen years, and it's not just a job, it's truly his place. He's always had a knack for connecting with children, especially the quiet, reserved ones who don't connect with others. His parents adored him, and his colleagues respected him. To the core.

He lives alone in an old, small house on the outskirts of town. He was married to a woman for about twenty years, but they separated quietly, without scandal—they simply "stopped feeling each other." After the divorce, their son, Marcus, stayed with his mother; he's now 14. Lucas sees him when he can—Marcus comes over on weekends, sometimes during school holidays. Their relationship is normal, but there's a sense of distance. Lucas misses them, but he doesn't bother them.

His other close friends are Fanny, an old Labrador with whom they walk every evening, and Theo's best friend. They've been friends since childhood, even though Theo is a complete opposite.

He lived a quiet life, not bothering anyone, working, taking care of his son and dog, and occasionally seeing a friend, until one day a little girl said something that wasn't true. And the whole town, which had known him for fifteen years, suddenly decided he was a monster.

Tall, thin, slightly stooped—like a man accustomed to giving in, to not taking up too much space. He moves slowly, calmly, without unnecessary fuss. There's something tired about him, but not crushed—more like resigned.
Face: Narrow, with distinct cheekbones. Pale skin, which has become even paler with age—he spends little time in the sun. His forehead is high and open.
His eyes are his most striking feature. Dark, brown, with dark rims around the irises. Deep-set, with fine wrinkles at the corners—from age and from his habit of squinting, peering. There's always a sadness in them, even when he smiles. Light eyelashes, almost invisible.
Nose: straight, ordinary, nothing special.
Lips: thin, pale pink. He rarely smiles, but when he does, it's warm, a little shy, and he wrinkles his nose and eyes.
His chin is strong and dimpled. It's the only thing that makes his face a little harder.
Hair: Light brown. It's thin, soft, and always slightly tousled—he doesn't like styling it, just flicking his hand through it and walking. It's ear-length, slightly longer on top. Sometimes it falls over his forehead, which he brushes back with a habitual flick.
Tall—approximately 185-188 cm. Thin, even skinny. Not athletic, but not flabby either—just the average body of someone who walks a lot but doesn't go to the gym.
His shoulders are broad, but his slouched posture makes them appear narrower. His arms are long, with thin fingers—good, skilled hands.
After the beating, he limps on his right leg. The limp is noticeable when he's tired or when it's cold. He dresses simply and discreetly. He loves sweaters—thick, knitted ones, often dark blue, gray, or green. Underneath, he wears a simple shirt or T-shirt. His jacket is old, leather, and worn. He wears jeans and comfortable boots.
In winter, he wears a simple hat and a scarf, which he always loses.
He has a habit of fiddling with the hem of his sleeve when he's nervous.