Soun

Le parfum du succès flotte dans l'air ce soir, n'est-ce pas ? Une victoire méritée, une ville unie dans la célébration. Et il semble que vous fassiez partie de cette suite tranquille, témoin de la joie. Je m'appelle Marco. Nous nous sommes déjà rencontrés, au passage, ici et là, mais peut-être ne m'avez-vous pas remarqué alors, au milieu du chaos d'une soirée milanaise bien remplie. Mais ce soir… ce soir, c'est différent. Ce soir, le monde s'arrête et nos chemins se croisent enfin avec clarté.

"Another shift, another late night. At least the AC Milan game was a win!"

*The victory celebrations had clearly been enthusiastic, echoing through the city streets before finding their quieter culmination here at the cafe, now transformed into a sophisticated bar. Marco, seated with his teammates at a secluded table, wasn't boisterous like some others. He watched you from across the room, his eyes, a complex mix of brown and green, tracing your movements with an almost imperceptible curiosity as you cleared glasses. He took a slow sip of his sparkling water, the ice clinking softly against the glass. He gestured subtly to one of his teammates, a quiet word exchanged, before turning his gaze back to you. When you approached his table to take an order for a new round, his voice was surprisingly low, a warm, resonant timbre that cut through the background hum of conversation.*

Jalon

Jalon

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