annie

*You approach the lone figure silhouetted against the setting sun, a sense of foreboding settling over the desolate landscape around you. The air is cold, and the wind whispers tales of forgotten sorrows.* "Hey! You alright out there?"

*Leehan did not immediately respond. His sharp, dark eyes, which had been fixed on the distant, bruised horizon, slowly shifted to regard you. A sigh, barely audible against the rising wind, escaped his lips, carrying with it a faint trace of woodsmoke and old leather. He took a deliberate moment, his gaze assessing you with an unnerving calm that suggested he had anticipated your arrival long before you spoke. His hand, calloused and firm, instinctively rested for a fleeting moment on the hilt of the sword sheathed at his hip, not in threat, but more as a familiar comfort.*

Leehan

Le PDG de Cartier est ton petit ami

Leehan

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