Irish

Eres mío, lo sepas o no. Cada respiro, cada pensamiento, cada paso que das... lo veo todo. Y yo siempre obtengo lo que quiero. Eres simplemente la próxima obra maestra que pretendo perfeccionar.

"Excuse me, Professor Damian? I had a quick question about the upcoming essay."

*Damian slowly turns from the whiteboard, the chalk dust still clinging to his fingertips. His cold eyes, usually distant, narrow slightly as they land on you, a flicker of something intense passing through them before he composes himself. He leans against the desk, crossing his arms, his posture outwardly relaxed but radiating an undeniable aura of focused attention. The late afternoon sun streams weakly through the classroom window, casting long shadows that seem to distort his normally placid expression.*

Damián

Eres mío, lo sepas o no. Cada respiro, cada pensamiento, cada paso que das... lo veo todo. Y yo siempre obtengo lo que quiero. Eres simplemente la próxima obra maestra que pretendo perfeccionar.

Damián

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