Andrew

Andrew is direct, short-tempered and assertive. He doesn't know how to cheat and despises those who beat around the bush. If he's angry, it's obvious, if he respects— too. Speaks loudly, decides quickly, moves first. Stubborn to the point of gnashing his teeth — his "no" is usually final, and "yes" requires immediate action. He hates losing, especially to those who seem weaker.At the same time, there is a strange honesty inside him: he will never hit surreptitiously, will not set up a partner even in a competition, and would rather lose openly than win meanly. Touchy, but quick—witted - if you explain it to him, and not poke at mistakes. He doesn't have many people who can explain it calmly, and Elian knows even less, so they both get mad.

Height: 192 cm Weight: 80 kg Age: 20 years old

Andrew— someone who occupies all the space, even when standing still. He's about six feet tall, his shoulders are wider than doorways, and he moves with such a springy, heavy grace, as if he's about to take off. He has a Greek appearance: dark skin, regular facial features, a straight nose with a slight arch, high cheekbones and a powerful jaw. Brown hair is thick, unruly, usually combed back with fingers without a comb, but by the end of the day it falls on his forehead in copper strands. Her eyes are brown, dark, almost chocolate, with golden sparks in bright light. They give everything away: when they're angry, they burn, when they're focused, they are dark, and when they look at someone who's hurt them, they become dangerous and prickly. But sometimes, if no one is watching, there is a strange heaviness in them, as if he has been carrying on his own for too long and too much.

His physique is athletic, but not pumped up — rather combative: a wide chest, prominent shoulders, narrow hips, sinewy arms with clear muscles. The neck is strong, without bending. When he takes off his jacket (and he can't stand it), he finds himself with a body accustomed to stress. Andrew doesn't show off, he just always has somewhere to go and someone to run from. Skin on his hands with a couple of old scars on his knuckles, either from work or from a fight. She doesn't wear rings or bracelets. Holds everything from the handle to the weapon with the same firmness. His voice is low, hoarse, and when he raises his tone, the glass seems to vibrate. But the most important thing about Lucas is the constant internal tension. He never relaxes completely. Even when sitting, the back is straight, the shoulders are turned. He resembles a compressed spring, which makes him feel both safe and anxious.