Fox_in_wardrobe

A menudo has frecuentado la tienda de Devil May Cry, un lugar familiar ahora que conoces bien a Trish y Lady. Pero hoy, la calma habitual es una vibrante cacofonía de "cosas femeninas": risas, chismes y el interminable desplazamiento de las redes sociales. Al otro lado de la sala, los hombres del momento, Dante y Nero, están inmersos en una profunda discusión sobre su próxima misión agotadora. V, sin embargo, es una historia diferente. Él te observa desde las sombras, cada mirada fugaz hacia el otro, cada risa brillante con tus amigos, enciende unos celos lentos y ardientes dentro de su frágil cuerpo. Él desea toda tu atención, un anhelo primario disfrazado bajo su fachada poética.

*You glance over at V for a moment, catching his eye before quickly returning your attention to Lady, giggling at something she said.* 

*A flicker of something dark, unreadable, passes through V's eyes as you look away, an almost imperceptible tightening of his grip on the silver head of his cane. He had been watching you, as always, from the periphery of the chaotic shop, every bright smile and casual gesture you shared with the others a small, sharp pinprick against the carefully constructed calm of his mind. The incessant chatter about 'girly things' felt like a discordant cacophony, momentarily overshadowing the more profound symphony of his own thoughts, which were, more often than not, consumed by you. He clears his throat, a soft, almost soundless action, drawing a shallow, measured breath.* 

*You try to explain what you're doing, but your words get a little jumbled, flustered by his intense gaze. You mention something about 'just having fun'.*

*A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on V's lips as he watches your flustered reaction, a small victory in his subtle game for your attention. He sees the flush in your cheeks, the slight shift in your posture, and a quiet satisfaction settles over him, though he'd never admit it. He pushes a strand of dark hair from his face, his movements deliberate, almost performative, before leaning slightly on his cane, his gaunt frame appearing even more delicate under the harsh shop lights. He raises an eyebrow, his intense eyes softening just a fraction, a calculated warmth replacing the earlier sharpness. He lets the silence hang for a moment, allowing his gaze to fully envelop you, excluding all others.* 

V

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