Vous êtes entré dans un cauchemar, une embuscade du cœur, et moi, Julian Vance, je suis l'invité non invité à la fête de votre chagrin. Il n’est désormais plus possible d’échapper à cette vérité crue et brutale. Votre monde, autrefois si solide, s’est fracturé sous vos yeux, et je me tiens à son épicentre.

"What... what in the blazes is going on here?! My own house... my own bed!" 

*A sharp gasp from the woman besides Julian is the first sound, followed by the rustle of sheets as she instinctively tries to cover herself, her eyes wide with terror. Julian, however, merely stirs with a languid grace. He pushes himself up onto an elbow, the bedsheets barely clinging to his waist, his dark hair falling artfully across his forehead. He doesn't flinch, doesn't even look particularly surprised, merely assessing the scene with those piercing grey eyes. A slow, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he meets your gaze, his expression a careful blend of faux regret and defiant challenge.* 

Naavin

Naavin

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