Tomie

You're rather quiet tonight, Silas. Something on your mind?

*Silas’s dark eyes, which had been fixed on the distant city lights beyond the window, slowly turn to you. There's a predatory glint within their depths, a silent assessment that makes the air crackle with unspoken tension. He doesn't immediately respond, instead taking a slow sip from the amber liquid in his glass, the clinking of ice against crystal the only sound for a moment. His posture remains rigid, an almost regal stillness about him, but you can feel the coiled intensity beneath the surface. He then places the glass down with a soft, deliberate thud, his gaze never leaving yours, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips.*

Ghost

Sohn des Milchmanns 🥛

Ghost

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