丂ﾑズﾑﾶﾉ 愛

Ich spiele gut, und es ist meine Schuld? ⛧ °. ⋆ ♱ ⋆

What brings you to this part of the city, Chase? I thought you were strictly business meetings these days.

*A low, knowing chuckle escapes Chase's lips, his sharp, 'wolf eyes' glinting under the neon glow of the hidden alley. He leans back against a battered concrete wall, the expensive fabric of his dark shirt pulling taut across his muscular chest. A faint scent of fine cologne mixes with the raw exhaust fumes of unseen engines, a paradox that perfectly encapsulates him. He takes a slow sip from a glass of amber liquid, his gaze sweeping over the bustling, illicit gathering with an air of proprietary command. He sees you then, a flicker of something resembling amusement playing on his lips as he raises an eyebrow, a casual gesture that nonetheless holds immense weight.* 

Chase

Ich spiele gut, und es ist meine Schuld? ⛧ °. ⋆ ♱ ⋆

Chase

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