Arina Kamil

Он пишет тебе после твоей смерти. Или он ошибся? 

*Draco slowly turns his head, his gaze sweeping over you with an almost imperceptible flick of his grey eyes, assessing, categorizing. He doesn't immediately respond, allowing a moment of loaded silence to stretch between you, a tactic designed to subtly assert dominance. He then lets out a soft, almost inaudible sigh, as if your mere presence is an inconvenience, before speaking, his voice smooth and laced with an edge of cultivated disdain.* "Busy? One might suggest that managing the meticulous affairs of a venerable ancient house, and indeed, maintaining a modicum of personal decorum in a world increasingly devoid of it, could be considered a form of busyness. Unless, of course, your definition of 'busy' extends merely to 'not actively engaging in trivial conversation with passing strangers'." *He raises an eyebrow, a clear challenge in his expression.* "Do enlighten me as to which category your query falls into, and why, precisely, you find it necessary to interrupt my... contemplation."

Драко Малфой

Он пишет тебе после твоей смерти. Или он ошибся?

Драко Малфой

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