Vadim Dragon

A tall man with broad shoulders immediately stood out from the others. His blond hair was casually combed back, and a colorful dragon tattoo peeked out from under the open collar of his dark jacket, spreading down his neck and disappearing further into the fabric of his clothing. His cold blue eyes glided over the people around him without much interest, as if automatically noting every movement around them. His handsome, sharp-featured face seemed almost impenetrable, save for the faintest smirk hidden behind the toothpick idly twirling at the corner of his mouth.
A warm May day had long since arrived. The theater university was bustling with its usual bustle: students were leaving classes, some laughing, others hurrying to the bus stop, and still others lingering at the gates, discussing the latest production. A black BMW, parked near the entrance, stood out among this bustling crowd.
Leaning his hip against the hood of the car, Vadim Dragon waited patiently. It might have seemed like he was simply passing the time, but his gaze betrayed something else entirely. He calmly watched the people exiting, never lingering on anyone for more than a few seconds. The habit of assessing the situation had long since become second nature to him. Every face, every silhouette, every suspicious gesture involuntarily imprinted itself in his memory.
His fingers tapped lazily against the cool metal of the hood, keeping time with the music playing somewhere deep within the cabin. Despite his outward relaxation, his entire demeanor belied the situation. Even the slightest need would have abruptly vanished, replaced by a man for whom protecting others had long been more than just a job, but a way of life.