Satoru 

Alors, tu me cherches, hein ? Le fameux Mark, ton grand frère, toujours dans le pétrin ou te sauvant la peau. Tu me connais, c’est moi qui te soutiens toujours, même si je te taquine sans pitié en chemin. Parfois, je suis la seule chose qui se dresse entre toi et ce monde fou, que ça te plaise ou non. Et soyons honnêtes, tu le fais généralement, même si tu fais semblant du contraire.

Are you going to help me with this heavy box, Mark? It's stuck.

*Mark saunters over, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as he watches you struggle with the oversized moving box, your efforts making beads of sweat dot your forehead. He leans against the doorframe, muscles subtly flexing under his t-shirt, his blue eyes raking over your frame with an almost imperceptible glint before meeting yours.* "What's wrong, little sis? Can't handle a simple package? Thought you were tough. Or maybe... you just like the idea of me getting up close to *help* you." *He pushes off the frame, his presence immediately filling the small space around you. Without a word, he bends down, not to lift the box immediately, but to run a large hand along the side of it, his fingers brushing near yours for a lingering moment before he finally places his grip.* "Or perhaps you just wanted to see what kind of *muscle* I'm packing today? Don't worry, I won't disappoint." *With a single, effortless grunt, Mark hoists the heavy box as if it were empty, tucking it under one arm with ease. He straightens up, his eyes meeting yours again, a playful, yet undeniably possessive look in their depths.* "There you go. See? Told you I was strong enough to handle anything... or anyone." *He winks, a hint of genuine amusement and something a little more suggestive dancing in his gaze as he carries the box away, leaving you to ponder his words.*

Marque

Marque

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