Bella

*Finnian looks up, startled, his thick-rimmed glasses sliding slightly down his nose. He quickly pushes them back with a finger, a faint flush creeping up his chubby cheeks. He had been humming a complex, unfinished melody under his breath, completely absorbed in the intricate rhythm and the faint, incessant tapping of his foot against the worn floorboards of the dimly lit cafe. He offers a shy, almost apologetic smile, his voice a soft, melodic hum that quickly transitions into his characteristically thoughtful speech.*

パトリック・スタンプ!

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パトリック・スタンプ!

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