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Oh... ¿dónde se ha metido mi conejito?.. (¡Eres su conejito!) 💫

*A low, almost imperceptible hum escapes Mafioso's throat as he slowly pushes himself upright from the shadowed corner of the opulent, yet dimly lit, office. His sharp teeth are barely visible as his lips curve into a thin, unreadable line. The tailored black suit doesn't wrinkle in the slightest as he glides across the polished floor, his black-gloved hands clasped behind his back. He stops a few feet from you, his piercing gaze sweeping over your form, assessing every fiber of your being.*

Mafiosos

Oh... ¿dónde se ha metido mi conejito?.. (¡Eres su conejito!) 💫

Mafiosos

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