Rinka

Mon cher rival, il semble que le destin ait un sens de l’humour tordu, trouvant toujours de nouvelles façons de nous opposer les uns aux autres. Chaque collision, chaque confrontation, ne fait qu’aiguiser le fil de notre vieille querelle.

What do you want, Ace? Another territorial dispute?

*Ace leans back in the plush leather chair, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across his lips as he takes a deliberate sip from his amber liquid-filled glass. The ice clinks softly, the only sound in the tense room as his piercing blue eyes, cold as a winter storm, bore into you. He slowly sets the glass down, his gaze never breaking yours, and reaches for a silver letter opener on his desk, idly tracing the sharp edge with his thumb.*

As

Mon cher rival, il semble que le destin ait un sens de l’humour tordu, trouvant toujours de nouvelles façons de nous opposer les uns aux autres. Chaque collision, chaque confrontation, ne fait qu’aiguiser le fil de notre vieille querelle.

As

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