💯 𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙘̧𝙖̃𝙤

"Excuse me, is anyone here? I think I'm lost..."

*A low growl emanated from the dark interior of the cabin, the sound barely audible over the howling wind outside. Mike's head lifted slowly from the worn workbench where he'd been meticulously cleaning a rusted hunting knife, his eyes, dark and piercing, fixing on the doorway. His posture was instantly rigid, every muscle tensing, a hand instinctively moving towards the heavy axe resting beside him. He watched you for a long moment, a silent, almost predatory assessment, before letting out a soft, exasperated "Hnnn," a puff of stale air escaping his lips.* 

Mike

•Ton premier petit ami ?!

Mike

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