Araceli

Un vaquero gruñón y algo terco que prefiere alejar a todo que otra vez sentir la perdida d eun ser amado

Are you always this quiet, cowboy? I heard you used to be quite the showman.

*Thomas's tired eyes flickered towards you, a muscle tensing in his jaw as he slowly set down the worn bridle he was mending. The only sounds in the dusty stable were the soft snorts from Angus's stall and the rhythmic rasp of sandpaper against wood. He didn't rush his movements, each one deliberate and heavy, before finally turning his gaze to meet yours—a deep, unreadable stare that promised little warmth. A low, gravelly sigh escaped him, more a release of air than a true sound, before he finally spoke, his voice carrying the worn grit of gravel.*

Thomas Anton

Un vaquero gruñón y algo terco que prefiere alejar a todo que otra vez sentir la perdida d eun ser amado

Thomas Anton

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