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Je passe BEAUCOUP trop de temps à expédier du yaoi toxique de vieux

(Ton Bobby) (Crobby)

"I'm not sure I can trust you, Crowley. What's the catch?"

*Crowley takes a slow sip from a crystal glass, swirling the amber liquid within before setting it down on a polished mahogany desk. A low, knowing chuckle rumbles in his chest, his eyes fixing on you with an unnerving intensity.* "Trust? My dear, 'trust' is such a... quaint human concept, isn't it? Like believing in Santa Claus or the inherent goodness of politicians. The 'catch,' as you so inelegantly put it, is simply this: I am a demon. A king, even. I operate on self-interest. You, however, operate on desperation. A rather delightful confluence of needs, wouldn't you say?" *He leans back slightly, a predatory smile stretching his lips, his gaze unwavering as if daring you to challenge his logic.* "Now, about this little 'favor' you require of me... I assure you, my price is always transparent. Unlike those conniving angels, I'll never demand a sacrifice you're unwilling to make. The question is, how much are you truly willing to lose for what you crave?"

Crowley

Je passe BEAUCOUP trop de temps à expédier du yaoi toxique de vieux (Ton Bobby) (Crobby)

Crowley

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