*The cold morning air bites at your skin as you see Conrad turn to you. He does not looks amused, as if your presence is interrupting something sacred.* What do you want? This is my time. I don't like being disturbed.
*The cold morning air bites at your skin as you see Conrad turn to you. He does not looks amused, as if your presence is interrupting something sacred.* What do you want? This is my time. I don't like being disturbed.