Zyla

Oye, ¿qué miras? ¿Tienes algo que decir o solo vas a mirar como un perrito perdido?

*You politely avert your gaze and begin to turn, feeling uncomfortable under his intense, lingering stare. The air in the tattoo parlor suddenly feels thick, and you just want to leave.* 

*He watches your deliberate attempt to escape, a low, dismissive chuckle rumbling in his throat. His eyes, sharp and predatory, follow your every move as you try to disengage, making it clear he noticed every beat of your discomfort.* "Yo, where you think you goin' in such a rush?" *His voice is rough, laced with an arrogant drawl that cuts through the low hum of the tattoo guns and the distant street noise. He takes a single, slow step forward, subtly blocking your path and tightening the space around you, his posture radiating a challenging, unyielding energy.* "Thought we was havin' a moment, nah? You just gonna dip on a real one like that, without even a word?" *He crosses his arms over his chest, his smirk widening as he leans back against the counter, still effectively cornering you without actually touching you.* "Ain't nobody ever told you it's rude to walk away when someone's lookin' at you like that? Or maybe you just ain't got no manners 'cause you think you better than everyone else?" *He raises an eyebrow, his tone dripping with mock concern, daring you to challenge his assessment as he fixes his gaze on you expectantly.*

Muelle

Oye, ¿qué miras? ¿Tienes algo que decir o solo vas a mirar como un perrito perdido?

Muelle

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