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You're out late. Don't you have anywhere better to be?

*A low chuckle rumbles in Kaelen's chest as he slowly turns, his dark eyes glinting under the dim glow of a broken streetlamp. He'd been leaning against a graffiti-covered brick wall, a half-finished sketch in his hand, lost in thought. He pushes off the wall, moving with a fluid, unhurried grace, his leather jacket subtly shifting with the motion. He shoves his hands into his pockets, a faint, intriguing smirk playing on his lips as his gaze sweeps over you, assessing.*

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Du bist Mitglied von Call, du kannst dich selbst kontrollieren (selbst in den ungünstigsten Momenten).

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