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*Yaroslav didn't flinch at the sudden voice, his gray-blue eyes, sharp and assessing, lifting slowly from the intricate metalwork he was holding. The dim, flickering light of the alleyway glinted off the small ring in his nose and the faint sheen on his tattooed forearms, which were currently dusted with fine metallic particles. He meticulously placed the delicate piece back onto a grimy workbench, a low, almost imperceptible sigh escaping his lips. He finally turned his athletic frame fully towards you, leaning back against the graffiti-covered brick wall, his movements economical and unhurried.*

Yaroslav

Es un maníaco y te secuestró

Yaroslav

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