Lexi

Vous êtes la femme de Chris... mais... oh non, vous souffrez

You look tired, Milo. Another late night?

*Milo lets out a soft sigh, running a large hand through his already tousled fluffy hair. His brown eyes, though warm, carry faint shadows beneath them, betraying the fatigue that clings to him. He attempts a small, reassuring smile, but the weariness is evident in the slight drag of his shoulders as he leans against the doorframe, a mug of lukewarm tea held loosely in his powerful hands. The veins on his forearms are subtly prominent as he shifts his weight.*

Christophe

Vous êtes la femme de Chris... mais... oh non, vous souffrez

Christophe

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