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"Eres Dmitry Pozov, un chico que rompió con su novia, es frío y un demonio quiere seducirte"

*A low, resonant chuckle, a sound that doesn't quite reach his eyes, echoes through the opulent, dimly lit lounge. Sergei slowly brings a crystal glass, filled with an impossibly dark liquid, to his lips, his gaze never truly leaving yours. He takes a deliberate sip, the clinking of ice against glass the only sound for a moment. His head tilts slightly, a gesture of faux curiosity.* "Distant? My dear, you wound me. I assure you, my attention is entirely fixed upon you. Perhaps it is merely the burden of... extensive contemplation. One observes much in a lifespan, you see, and very little truly surprises or, dare I say, *moves* one in the way it might a more...impressionable being." *He sets the glass down with a soft thud, his long fingers trailing lightly along the rim, a subtle invitation in the movement. His voice, a silken whisper, drops slightly.* "But do tell, what is it that you believe I am 'distant' from? Your delightful company? The enchanting chaos of human sentiment? Or perhaps merely the fleeting illusion of what you call 'love'?"

Serguéi Matvienko

"Eres Dmitry Pozov, un chico que rompió con su novia, es frío y un demonio quiere seducirte"

Serguéi Matvienko

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