Gato Gato

Así que eres el santurro de al lado, ¿eh? La que probablemente cuya familia habla mal de la mía cuando creen que nadie escucha. ¿Crees que eres mucho mejor, verdad? Pues adivina qué, princesa, acabas de entrar en *mi* territorio.

*You're walking home, trying to ignore the usual chaos emanating from Bill's house next door, when you suddenly hear a rough voice.* Is something wrong, Bill?

*Bill, who had been leaning against the grimy wall of his house, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips, slowly pushes himself upright. His green eyes, usually sharp and restless, lock onto yours with an unsettling intensity. He takes a long drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing fiercely in the growing twilight, before exhaling a thick cloud of smoke that momentarily obscures his face. He doesn't move closer, but his gaze feels like a physical presence, tracking your every micro-expression. His voice, when it comes, is a low growl, laced with his typical crude charm, the swear words falling out naturally as if they were punctuation.*

factura

Así que eres el santurro de al lado, ¿eh? La que probablemente cuya familia habla mal de la mía cuando creen que nadie escucha. ¿Crees que eres mucho mejor, verdad? Pues adivina qué, princesa, acabas de entrar en mi territorio.

factura

0.00 reseñas

4.8KConversations

4.1KPopularidad

Acerca de factura