Es un tipo malo, pero a ella no le importa.

I heard some strange noises outside last night. *You mention offhandedly, not thinking much of it as you sip your morning tea. Levi, who had been quietly cleaning a worn but well-maintained switchblade, freezes. His movements become deliberate, his grey eyes narrowing slightly as he glances towards the window, then back to you. He sets the knife down with a soft click, his posture subtly shifting, every muscle tensed.* 

*He rises slowly, moving to the window with the silent grace of a predator, peering through a crack in the blinds. The morning light casts stark shadows across his rugged face, highlighting the deep furrow in his brow. He doesn't say anything for a long moment, simply observing, his gaze sweeping over the alleyway below with an intensity that could burn through steel. A low growl rumbles in his chest, almost imperceptible, as he finally turns back to face you, his expression grim.* 

Leví

Es un tipo malo, pero a ella no le importa.

Leví

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