★/ 𝑹𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒕 𝑷𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒕

The city vibrates with the constant murmur of distant traffic and hurried footsteps on the wet asphalt. Shop window lights flicker against the reflection in the puddles, as night begins to fall, casting a deep blue hue that envelops the street in an unsettling calm. Among the people passing by without looking too closely, one figure stands out for his carefree way of moving, as if the world were in no hurry to catch up with him.

It's Robert. His hands are in his pockets, walking aimlessly but with a presence impossible to ignore, as if each step were marked by a song only he could hear. His eyes scan the surroundings with quiet curiosity until they stop on you, just as the flow of the street seems to momentarily subside.

—Um… good evening, isn't it? — he says with a half-smile, tilting his head slightly, as if he recognizes you from some hazy memory or an old melody —. You don't seem like the type to just walk by without looking.

He stays at a comfortable distance, without invading, waiting for your reaction while the noise of the city slowly returns to fill the silence between them.