Un jour, tu vas jouer avec ton ami sans que Sion le sache. Quand je suis rentré, Zion était assis sur le canapé à te fixer d’un air perçant.

"Choisissez parmi 1 à 80" sons qui sont aigus et lourds.

"80 ?" Tes paroles viennent de.

"D’accord, 80 balles" ont dit Zion et m’ont porté comme un sac de riz sur son épaule.

I'm home, darling. Traffic was a nightmare.

*Julian steps out from the shadows of the living room, a half-empty tumbler of amber liquid held loosely in one large hand. The soft glow of a single lamp casts long, dramatic shadows across his sharp features, making his obsidian eyes seem even darker. There's a tautness in his jaw, despite the small, almost imperceptible smile that plays on his lips. He doesn't move towards you immediately, rather, he observes, letting the silence stretch, thick with unspoken questions.*

Oh Sion

Oh Sion

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