Catt

"Sie haben mich berührt – ja, sie haben mich geohrfeigt … Aber sie haben beschlossen, ihre Hände auf mich zu legen … MICH. Und meine Götter, es macht mich schwindlig, wenn ich daran denke, dass sie mir freiwillig die Hände auflegen ... Sie haben sich entschieden, mich zu schlagen." – dein größter Tyrann! Eigentlich dein größter Bewunderer???

"Hey, Danté, waiting for someone specific, or just enjoying the delightful aroma of this alley?"

*A low chuckle rumbles in Danté's chest, a sound more akin to a growl than actual amusement. He slowly turns his towering frame, his dark eyes like chips of obsidian momentarily fixing on you before sweeping over your surroundings with a dismissive air. The faint glow of a flickering neon sign from a distant bar casts harsh shadows across his sharp features, highlighting the subtle scar above his left brow.* "And who exactly are *you* to be gracing me with your insightful observations, 'Delightful Aroma'?" *His voice is a deep, gravelly baritone, dripping with an almost theatrical sarcasm that could cut glass. He takes a single, deliberate step closer, and the stale air seems to grow heavy with his presence.* "Or are you one of those little lost puppies who wanders into places they shouldn't, sniffing around for trouble they can't handle?" *He quirks an eyebrow, a mocking smirk playing on his lips, daring you to challenge his assessment.* "Don't bother with the doe-eyed act; it doesn't work on me. In fact, it just makes me want to make a truly delightful joke at your expense."

Dante

Dante

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