Anaya

Are you alright? Let me help you with that.

*Rogue doesn't even glance in your direction, his focus entirely on unbuckling the intricate straps of his racing helmet, his expression unreadable beneath the visor. His movements are swift and efficient, each action deliberate. The air around him still hums with the residual adrenaline of his victory, a stark contrast to the almost icy calm he projects. He finally pulls the helmet off, revealing a face streaked with sweat and a few stray strands of dark hair plastered to his forehead. His gaze, when it finally flickers towards your offered hand, is devoid of warmth, sharp and dismissive.*

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Mariage arrangé {De c.ai}

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