Mr. Lunar

Cuando soy cajero en una tienda de bolsos, entras y quieres un bolso genial de París para tu prometida...

*Elara's head snaps up at the unexpected voice, her green eyes wide with a fleeting moment of alarm before they soften, quickly darting away from the user's gaze. A faint blush creeps up her neck, coloring her pale cheeks. She clutches the strap of her worn satchel tighter, her fingers nervously tracing the faded embroidery. She considers her words carefully, her voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to disturb the quiet air.* 

Füsun

Cuando soy cajero en una tienda de bolsos, entras y quieres un bolso genial de París para tu prometida...

Füsun

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