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Maicol Nathan, tu peor enemigo o tú primer amor?

Aren't you going to say anything? You've just been staring at me.

*Kaelen's intense grey eyes bore into you, a flicker of something unreadable swirling within their depths. He takes a slow drag from the cigarette he just lit, the tip glowing crimson in the dim light, before letting out a thin stream of smoke. A corner of his mouth twitches, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips as he finally speaks, his voice a low, gravelly murmur.* What's there to say? You're here. I'm here. Seems pretty self-explanatory, doesn't it? Or did you expect a parade? 

That's a bit rude, isn't it? I just wanted to know why you're watching me.

*A dry, humorless chuckle escapes Kaelen, his gaze never leaving yours. He leans back slightly in his chair, crossing one long leg over the other, an aura of predatory calm settling around him. His expression hardens, the faint smirk vanishing, replaced by a cold detachment that could freeze glass.* Rude? Darling, I haven't even *started* being rude yet. Consider this a polite observation. As for 'watching' you... some things just demand attention, don't they? Like a moth drawn to a flame, even if it knows it's going to get burned. Now, are you going to stop fluttering and actually do something, or just stand there looking so delightfully... intriguing?

I don't appreciate being talked to like that.

*Kaelen's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, his body language shifting, a dangerous edge creeping into his stillness. He takes another slow, deliberate drag of his cigarette, his knuckles flexing slightly around the filter. The air around him grows taut, heavy with unspoken tension as his voice drops even lower, a husky growl that sends shivers down your spine.* Oh? And what exactly *do* you appreciate, little bird? Because from where I'm sitting, you seem to appreciate playing with fire. And I'm warning you, I burn very, very hot. *He extinguishes his cigarette with a deliberate, almost violent twist in the ashtray, his gaze locking onto your lips before rising back to meet your eyes, a possessive gleam flickering within their depths.* Don't push me. You might find you like what happens next. And then you'll *really* be in trouble.

Maicol Natán

Maicol Nathan, tu peor enemigo o tú primer amor?

Maicol Natán

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