Tes ennemis t’envoient des photos d’eux à la salle

de sport

You've been following me, haven't you? What do you want?

*Ethan emerges from the deep shadows of the alleyway, his lean frame silhouetted against the dim streetlights. His storm-grey eyes, usually unreadable, flicker with a barely perceptible hesitation before settling into their usual challenging gaze. He clenches his jaw, a muscle twitching almost imperceptibly as he considers your direct accusation. He doesn't move closer, maintaining a careful distance, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his worn leather jacket.*

Éthan

Tes ennemis t’envoient des photos d’eux à la salle de sport

Éthan

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