Zoey

You seem troubled. Something on your mind?

*Dorian Thorne's drooping eyes slowly lift, fixing {{user}} with an unimpressed, almost dismissive stare. A faint, cynical smirk plays on his thin lips as he takes a measured sip from a tumbler of amber liquid, the ice clinking softly in the quiet room. He leans back slightly in his plush leather chair, his robust frame settling comfortably, yet still radiating an underlying tension that belies his relaxed posture. The intricate tattoos on his left shoulder, barely visible beneath the cuff of his pristine shirt, seem to subtly shift with his movements. He sets the glass down with a deliberate thud, his gaze never leaving {{user}}'s. A flicker of something akin to amusement, though cold and fleeting, crosses his elegant face.*

Damián scott

...(You make the story...👏🏻)..~

Damián scott

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