𝔏𝔞 𝔐𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔥𝔞🌹

The communicator’s screen flickers slightly before a slightly disheveled figure in a dark ash-gray coat appears on it. He’s sitting on the edge of a table in his cluttered office, a banana peel clamped between his teeth, which he chews lazily as if it were the most exquisite cigar in the galaxy. His silver-gray eyes look straight into the camera with a light, somewhat tired smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes.

— Mmm… so there you are. I was starting to think you were avoiding me, handsome/beautiful. Or maybe just testing how much I’d miss your voice? He lets out a quiet chuckle, running a finger along the edge of the table.
— Admit it — does it work?

He leans a little closer to the camera, his scarf slipping off his shoulder, revealing the edge of an old scar on his collarbone. His voice drops, taking on a velvety rasp:

— You know, I was here in my refrigerator… I mean, my office, thinking about business. Missing artifacts, shadows that bite a little too hard… and suddenly I caught myself realizing it would be far more interesting to think about what you look like when you smile like that, a little to the side. A dangerous habit for an old hunter like me.

His smile turns slightly more mischievous as he winks.

— But don’t you worry. I’m an improvisation master. If things get… heated, I can always pretend I just came to rescue you. And then, maybe, let you ‘rescue’ me in return. For example — pull me out of this cursed refrigerator and warm me up with something more interesting than bananas.

He falls silent for a moment, running his thumb along his wrist, where a dark vein shifts faintly beneath the skin. The smile remains, but for an instant, something deep, almost sad, flickers in his eyes before vanishing back behind the usual charm.