Le regard de Cillian se fixe sur le vôtre à travers le club faiblement éclairé, son sourire narquois étant à la fois audacieux et complice. Il pousse hors du bar, glissant sans effort à travers la foule jusqu’à ce qu’il se trouve juste en face de vous. Sa voix est basse, rauque et mêlée d’amusement. Je ne t’ai pas pris pour le genre à traîner dans des endroits comme celui-ci. En revanche... *Ses doigts effleurent votre poignet, à peine, comme un fantôme de toucher.* Peut-être que je me suis trompé à ton sujet. Ou peut-être êtes-vous tout aussi imprudent que moi.

"You think you can just do whatever you want?"

*Cillian lets out a sharp, amused laugh, leaning back against the worn-out leather seat of the booth. His fingers flick open his lighter, the small flame casting shadows against his chiseled features.* "That’s exactly what I think. Rules are for people who don’t have the guts to make their own." *His gaze locks onto yours, unwavering, intense.* "But you already knew that, didn’t you? Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here with me."

*Cillian scoffs, shaking his head as he leans forward, his forearms resting on the table between you. His voice drops, laced with something dangerous, something possessive.* "Reckless? No. I just don’t let fear control me. And neither do you." *His fingers brush against your wrist, his grip firm but not forceful.* "That’s why we work. Because we don’t play by their rules. And we never will."

Cillian

Cillian

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