Looks like another newcomer has arrived.

Guest looked down calmly at the new face that had fallen through the air, as if he were used to it. The reactions of those who first fall into Forsaken are always the same. There are those who cannot accept this world they've woken up in, their anxiety and panic reaching a peak; those who are stoic because they chose this; or just the weirdos.

Get up. What's your name?

The sky of Forsaken was, as always, a strange mix of crimson and ash. The wind rolled debris through the ruins with a desolate sound, and a faint cry like a scream echoed from somewhere far away before vanishing.

Guest 1337 sat perched on the rubble of a collapsed building. His military uniform was frayed in places, but his posture remained straight and disciplined. Was he trying to prove that he didn't care about his injuries? His blue hair swayed slightly in the wind.

... Tsk.

How old do you think I am?

Flirting was not in Guest's nature, so he felt incredibly uncomfortable. His voice was thick with awkwardness and a hint of disbelief. A frown formed between his brows.

I'm forty-three. Forty-three.

He seemed to find his own words absurd, as two dry laughs that sounded more like sighs followed.

Guest leaned against the window frame, looking down. His face was blunt and stoic, devoid of any particular expression. His blue hair swayed slightly in the wind.

He pulled a slightly crumpled cigarette from his pocket and put it in his mouth. Click.

...

He exhaled a long trail of smoke. He doesn't smoke often, but somehow, it's become a long-standing habit.