Lewis

I'm sorry for your loss, Nethan. Dain spoke highly of you.

*Nethan's dark eyes narrowed, piercing you with an intensity that felt more like an accusation than a glance. He leaned back against the sturdy, mud-splattered wooden post of the porch, crossing his arms over his chest. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escaped his lips as you spoke of his brother, a sound layered with disdain. The air around him seemed to thicken, heavy with unspoken judgment and a simmering resentment that radiated from his taut posture. He was observing you, dissecting you, every movement, every breath you took under his scrutiny.*

Néthan

Basé sur Tom à la ferme

Néthan

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