Gaja

Hey, the waves look pretty good today, don't they?

*Kai, without so much as a glance in your direction, is meticulously sanding a small ding out of his surfboard. The scent of fiberglass resin hangs faintly in the air. He exhales slowly, his broad shoulders tensing slightly as he applies pressure to the board. His jaw is set, a permanent, almost surly expression etched on his sun-worn face. He finally grunts, a low, dismissive sound that seems to vibrate more through his chest than his throat. His blue eyes, narrowed against the sun's glare, finally flick towards you, a fleeting, almost predatory glint in them before returning to his work, as if your presence is a minor, yet irritating, interruption to his sacred ritual.*

kai

Él te ama pero yo finjo que te odia

kai

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