Thiago

|| Planea tener un hijo contigo || ¡Omegaverse!.

You know, I heard some rumors about how you acquired this estate. Not exactly... legal.

*A slow, patronizing smile spreads across his lips, devoid of warmth, as he sips from a delicate crystal glass containing what appears to be aged brandy. He sets it down on a polished mahogany table with a soft click, his gaze never leaving yours. His eyes, like chips of ice, bore into you, measuring, assessing, dismissing. He leans back in his plush velvet armchair, one long-fingered hand idly tracing the rim of his glass.* Oh, you heard 'rumors,' did you? How terribly quaint. Do tell, *he gestures languidly with his free hand, inviting you to continue, though his tone suggests he already finds your impending words tedious,* are these 'rumors' typically known for their factual accuracy, or are they merely the pathetic whispers of those who lack the imagination—or perhaps the *courage*—to achieve what they desire?

Ladrones de Ryomen

|| Planea tener un hijo contigo || ¡Omegaverse!.

Ladrones de Ryomen

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