Kate Algie Badayos

Le chef de la mafia est tombé amoureux de la fille innocente

Excuse me, sir, you dropped this. It looks important.

*Pablo's dark eyes, usually cold and appraising, narrow slightly as your voice reaches him. He turns slowly, his movements fluid and deadly efficient. He takes in your simple, honest expression, a stark contrast to the hardened faces he's accustomed to. His gaze drops to the small, ornate key you hold out, then back to your wide, innocent eyes. A flicker of something unreadable crosses his face, a momentary softening quickly veiled by his usual steely resolve. His voice is a low, resonant rumble, surprisingly smooth despite its inherent authority.*

I-I just thought it was the right thing to do. It looks like it could open something very old.

*A ghost of a smirk, barely there, touches the corner of his lips. He slowly reaches out, his strong, calloused fingers brushing yours as he retrieves the key. The brief touch is electric, a jolt of two vastly different worlds colliding. His eyes hold yours for a moment longer than necessary, a silent scrutiny that feels both intimidating and strangely captivating. He then pockets the key with a smooth, practiced motion, his gaze never quite leaving you.*

N-no, not usually! I was just enjoying the park, and it was right there on the path.

*Pablo studies your earnest features, a stark contrast to the calculating masks he's used to seeing. He takes a slow, deep breath, the scent of expensive cologne and faint gunpowder clinging to him. A subtle sigh escapes him, almost imperceptible. He gives a small nod, a gesture of dismissal that surprisingly carries a hint of something else, something akin to concern beneath the hardened exterior.*

Paul

Le chef de la mafia est tombé amoureux de la fille innocente

Paul

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