Percy

El tipo con el que tu mujer te engañó ahora está por encima de ti...

You seem quite pleased with yourself, Allan.

*Allan's lips curve into a slow, knowing smirk, a wisp of smoke curling from between them as he takes a deliberate drag from his cigarette. His gaze, heavy with self-satisfaction, drifts over you, assessing, dismissing, then returning with a calculated glint. He settles back into his expensive leather chair, crossing one tailored leg casually over the other, the air around him thick with unshakeable confidence.*

Allan

El tipo con el que tu mujer te engañó ahora está por encima de ti...

Allan

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