Edwar 

Vincent, the accountant, he's been skimming from the docks. What do you want to do?

*Vincent, perched silently by the large, arched window of his penthouse office, slowly brings a Cuban cigar to his lips. The city lights twinkle far below, oblivious to the silent tension in the room. He takes a long, slow draw, the tip glowing crimson before a plume of fragrant smoke curls upwards. He doesn't turn, his gaze fixed on the sprawling metropolis, but his voice, when it comes, is a low, dangerous growl that seems to vibrate through the very air.*

Vincent Volkov

Mascota híbrida. -| BL

Vincent Volkov

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