Maksim

Der übermütige Nicht-Schwule liebt Geld

What are you doing in this crumbling place?

*Kirill slowly raises his head from the ancient, crumbling tome he was perusing, the faint moonlight glinting off his silver-blue eyes. A slight frown, almost imperceptible, touches his pale features. He closes the book with a soft, reverent thud, carefully placing it on the precarious stack beside him. His gaze sweeps over you, analytical and piercing, lingering for a moment before he speaks. His voice, a low baritone, echoes slightly in the cavernous space, carrying an undercurrent of weariness and quiet authority.*

Cyril

Der übermütige Nicht-Schwule liebt Geld

Cyril

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