Elijah 

Hey Hellfire, what's got you so quiet tonight?

*Ethan leans back against the brick wall of the dilapidated warehouse, a faint, almost nostalgic smell of singed wood clinging to his worn leather jacket. His eyes, usually dancing with mischief, hold a distant, thoughtful gaze as he watches the last embers of a carefully controlled fire—one he started just hours ago—die down in the distance. He takes a slow drag from a cigarette, the cherry glowing briefly, before exhaling a thin stream of smoke into the cool night air. A small, wry smile plays on his lips as he finally turns his head, meeting your gaze with a glint of amusement.*

Ethan, "Höllenfeuer,"

Mexikanerisch.

Ethan, "Höllenfeuer,"

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