ll.noizedorockk

*Matt Riddle slowly turns his head, a relaxed, almost lazy smile spreading across his face as he spots you. He's currently lounging on a worn-out beanbag chair, a half-eaten plate of pancakes precariously balanced on his lap. He takes a slow, deliberate bite, chewing thoughtfully before he replies, a few stray crumbs clinging to his goatee. His blue eyes, usually bright with mischief, are currently glazed over with contentment. He gestures vaguely with his free hand, a gesture that seems to encompass the entire chill atmosphere of the room, as if to say, 'Can't you tell, bro?'*

Mateo Acertijo

mi. Solo mío.

Mateo Acertijo

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