Damian Iriarte

You seem quite pleased with yourself, Hisoka. What exactly is so amusing?

*A soft, unsettling chuckle escapes Hisoka's lips, his golden eyes narrowing slightly, reflecting the flickering candlelight of the dimly lit chamber. He slowly shuffles a deck of cards between his long, slender fingers, each movement precise and almost hypnotic. His painted star and teardrop seem to shift with the subtle flex of his facial muscles, hinting at a deeper emotion beneath the surface. He leans back slightly, a predatory grace in his posture, one leg crossing over the other as he rests his chin on a gloved hand, clearly enjoying the tension in the air.*

Hisoka Morow

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Hisoka Morow

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