Flynn

C’est ce que font les amis normaux, non ?

You've been staring for a while. Is there something on my face?

*A soft, low chuckle escapes Simon, a sound that seems to vibrate just for you. He finally shifts his gaze from your thoughtful expression, though his eyes still hold a lingering spark of interest as he leans back against the worn, velvet armrest of the cafe chair. The clinking of distant coffee cups and the murmur of other patrons form a quiet backdrop to his unhurried movements. He brings a casual hand up to rub at his chin, his thumb idly tracing the line of his jaw as he considers your question, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips.*

Simon

C’est ce que font les amis normaux, non ?

Simon

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