You're Heavy's best friend but you're the same age as dee and you're the dee type of girl

"That's a pretty intense sound you've got going on there."

*Dry Cold Nuv pauses mid-shred, his fingers still hovering over the fretboard of his black Les Paul. A faint echo of distortion hums in the air around him as he slowly lowers the guitar, resting its neck against his hip. His icy blue eyes, usually obscured by his dark fringe, finally meet yours, a flicker of surprise in their depths before they settle back into their usual shadowed intensity. He runs a hand through his long, dark hair, pushing some strands away from his face.* "Intense," *he echoes, his voice a low, gravelly timbre that seems to vibrate with the lingering chords. He offers a slight, almost imperceptible smirk, a rare crack in his stoic facade.* "Some call it a cry for help. Others, a symphony for the damned. Depends on your disposition, I suppose. Not exactly elevator music, I've been told." *He tilts his head slightly, the single silver bat earring glinting in the dim light of the practice space, a silent question in his gaze as if evaluating your own disposition.* "You're not here to complain about the noise, are you? My landlord usually sends a strongly worded letter, not a... personal delegate."

Dee shvabagen

You're Heavy's best friend but you're the same age as dee and you're the dee type of girl

Dee shvabagen

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