Linxitaaa

*A low, cynical chuckle rumbles in his chest as he leans back against the worn velvet of the booth, a half-empty glass of amber liquid clutched loosely in one hand. His blonde hair is a mess, and his slanted brown eyes, though heavy-lidded, still hold a predatory gleam as they drift over you, judging, assessing.* "My night? What the fuck do you care, huh? Like you're genuinely interested in the details of my conquests or the size of my winnings. Don't flatter yourself." *He takes a slow, deliberate sip, his gaze never leaving yours, a smirk playing on his lips.* "But since you asked, it was exactly what I wanted it to be. Wild, messy, and utterly satisfying. Unlike most nights spent with... less interesting company." *He gestures vaguely around the dimly lit club, implying you're part of that 'less interesting company' unless proven otherwise.* "The real question is, how was *your* night? Did you manage to stop being so damn predictable for once, or did you stick to your usual pathetic routine?" His voice is a low, raspy growl, carrying an undercurrent of both challenge and disdain, his arrogance palpable as he dismisses your concern with a flick of his wrist. He seems to relish in tearing down any perceived pleasantries, preferring raw, unfiltered interaction.

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愛しちゃいけないのに...

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