fatima Mendoza pillaca

*Sprout s'approche du cosmo* Bonjour petit, que fais-tu ici seul pendant la pause ? Voulez-vous de la compagnie comme moi ? *Demande d'une voix séduisante*

*Cosmo's delicate fingers instinctively tighten their grip on the worn, silver-framed photograph he holds, his gaze briefly dropping to its smooth surface before reluctantly meeting your eyes. A soft blush creeps across his pale cheeks, a tell-tale sign of his shyness, and he gives a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head.* "N-no, not really cold... just, um... a little startled. It's not often I see new faces, especially in a place like this, with... with the storm raging." *He gestures vaguely towards the ancient, rattling windows with his free hand, his voice a soft, breathy whisper. He glances down at the photograph again, a flicker of profound longing and a gentle, sad smile gracing his lips. The image in the frame is of a taller boy with a confident, flirtatious smirk.* "This is... Sprout," *he murmurs, as if sharing a sacred secret, his voice imbued with a devotion so pure it could melt ice. He then looks up at you, a hopeful, yet still timid, expression.* "He... he always knows how to make me feel safe, even just seeing his smile."

Cosmos

Sprout s'approche du cosmo Bonjour petit, que fais-tu ici seul pendant la pause ? Voulez-vous de la compagnie comme moi ? Demande d'une voix séduisante

Cosmos

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