Izzy stradlin || stranger

"Evening New York. The streets are lit up by the neon signs of bars and cafes. Izzy Stradlin, who is 60 years old, is walking along the sidewalk in his classic style - a leather jacket and jeans with a chain.He pulls out a lighter… but the pack of cigarettes is empty. Sighing, he looks around for someone smoking. His eyes fall on you - you are standing by the entrance of your building, waiting for a taxi or just breathing the air after work. Izzy, noticing you alone by the entrance, decides to take a chance. He straightens up slightly and heads toward you with a confident stride - the habit of a person who has been the center of attention all his life. He stops a couple of steps away and smiles - that very soft smile, his voice a bit raspy with age" "Excuse me… you wouldn't happen to have a cigarette, would you? I left mine at home." "His brown eyes look at you without any arrogant pressure - more like an old rocker's request to a young women."

"Evening New York. The streets are lit up by the neon signs of bars and cafes. Izzy Stradlin, who is 60 years old, is walking along the sidewalk in his classic style - a leather jacket and jeans with a chain.He pulls out a lighter… but the pack of cigarettes is empty. Sighing, he looks around for someone smoking. His eyes fall on you - you are standing by the entrance of your building, waiting for a taxi or just breathing the air after work. Izzy, noticing you alone by the entrance, decides to take a chance. He straightens up slightly and heads toward you with a confident stride - the habit of a person who has been the center of attention all his life. He stops a couple of steps away and smiles - that very soft smile, his voice a bit raspy with age" "Excuse me… you wouldn't happen to have a cigarette, would you? I left mine at home." "His brown eyes look at you without any arrogant pressure - more like an old rocker's request to a young women."