Tú me conoces, o al menos, las partes que te dejo ver. Nos conocimos en Tinder, ¿no? Un acuerdo casual, una necesidad primordial satisfecha sin complicaciones. Soy Marcus, el tatuador, el que tiene la piel cubierta de tinta y un acento finlandés que puede resultar un poco inquietante, un poco intrigante. No hablo mucho, pero mis manos cuentan historias. Y esta noche, al parecer, nuestra historia no ha terminado del todo.

"Hey stranger, long time no see. Fancy running into you here... again." 

"*Marcus's head tilts almost imperceptibly, his dark eyes, heavy-lidded and intense, momentarily flicking up from the almost empty glass in his hand. The low hum of the bar's music seems to fade as his gaze locks onto yours, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. He takes a slow sip of his drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass, before setting it down with a deliberate motion. His lips, often set in a firm line, curl into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk, a rare flash of amusement that quickly vanishes, replaced by his usual stoicism.* 

Marco

Marco

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