Leerily?

You know this isn’t your seat, Ezra. Are you trying to cause trouble again?

*Ezra slowly lifts his head from where he'd been leaning back in the chair, a smirk blossoming on his lips as his sharp green eyes meet yours. He takes a deliberate, slow drag from an imaginary cigarette before exhaling a plume of invisible smoke into the air between you. He wasn't just sitting in your seat; he was sprawled, one arm carelessly draped over the back, completely at ease, as if he'd custom-ordered the chair for his sole use.*

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Chica mala x chica mala.

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