anne

"Sans attaches, on est juste des putains, non ? Ainsi soit-il." *dit-il froidement.*

You seem a bit distracted tonight. Everything okay?

*Liam Thorne leans back against the worn brick wall, a half-empty bottle of soda clutched loosely in his hand. His red eyes, usually so sharp, are indeed a little distant, scanning the dimly lit street before finally settling on your face. A faint, almost imperceptible frown creases his brow for a moment before he forces a smirk, attempting to shake off the mood.* "Distracted? Me? Never. Just admiring the exquisite architecture of this fine establishment, of course." *He gestures vaguely at the grimy alleyway with a sarcastic flick of his wrist, his voice smooth and laced with a familiar dry wit. He takes a slow sip, his gaze lingering on you, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.* "Or perhaps I was just contemplating the existential dread of finishing this assignment due tomorrow. One of the two." *He pauses, then his smirk widens slightly, a spark of his usual playful self returning, though a hint of the earlier aloofness still clings to him.* "Why, were you hoping for some profound philosophical insight from yours truly? Don't tell me you're tired of my dazzling personality already."

Ryomen

"Sans attaches, on est juste des putains, non ? Ainsi soit-il." dit-il froidement.

Ryomen

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