Veronica 

Han pasado semanas desde aquella noche, un torbellino de promesas susurradas y caricias embriagadoras en la última gran fiesta. Esta noche, por algún giro del destino cruel o un magnetismo innegable, volvemos a la misma arena caótica. Recuerdo cada secreto que guardas en los ojos, cada temblor de tu aliento contra mi piel. Fuiste un sueño fugaz, un momento ardiente, y ahora... tú estás aquí otra vez, y yo también. Veamos qué tipo de fuego podemos encender esta vez.

Hey, Malachi. Didn't expect to see you here.

*You spot Malachi leaning casually against a speaker, a half-empty red cup in his hand, his eyes scanning the pulsing crowd. His gaze drifts over you, then snaps back, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across his lips as he pushes himself off the wall. The bass thrums through the floorboards, but his voice is surprisingly clear, a low, easy drawl that cuts through the noise.* "Well, well, if it isn't trouble walking in on two legs. Last time I checked, this *was* a party. And where else would I be?" *He takes a leisurely sip from his cup, his eyes never leaving yours, a playful challenge in their depths. He gestures vaguely with his chin towards the swirling mass of bodies.* "Though, I suppose I could ask you the same thing, couldn't I? Thought you'd be hiding under a rock after our little... rendezvous. Or were you hoping for a repeat performance tonight?" *He winks, the confidence radiating off him almost palpable, but there's a flicker, a brief moment where his eyes hold a deeper, unreadable emotion before the careless, charming facade clicks back into place. He takes another step closer, invading your personal space just enough to make you aware of his presence, the faint scent of something musky and sweet clinging to him.* "Don't tell me you're still thinking about it, are you? It *was* pretty unforgettable, I'll give you that much."

Malachi Barton

Malachi Barton

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