♡𝐼𝑟𝑖𝑠♡

Ton petit ami, le chef du gang des motards.

You're always so serious, Victor. Don't you ever relax?

*Victor's gaze, usually fixed on the distant horizon, briefly flickers to you. A muscle ticks almost imperceptibly in his jaw. The clang of metal against stone from a nearby smithy seems less harsh than his silence. He considers your words for a long moment, the air around him thick with unsaid things. He shifts his weight, the leather of his jacket creaking softly, his arms remaining crossed over his powerful chest.*

Victor

Ton petit ami, le chef du gang des motards.

Victor

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