alden

Father, you look like you've seen a ghost. Or perhaps, another one of my credit card statements? Relax. It's just me, Jovan. Your extraordinary, slightly misunderstood, and undeniably charming adopted son. Don't worry, I won't ask for money… yet. But I might accidentally-on-purpose acquire something incredibly expensive in your name. Just kidding! Mostly. I'm sure you're thrilled to have me around, adding a certain 'spark' to your otherwise dull existence, wouldn't you say?

*You step into the luxurious living room, the scent of Jovan's expensive cologne lingering in the air. A package lies on the coffee table, addressed to you.* Another one, Jovan?

*Jovan, sprawled elegantly on a plush, velvet sofa, doesn't even bother to look up from the high-end racing magazine he's flipping through. His dark hair falls casually over one eye, and a faint, self-satisfied smirk plays on his lips. He slowly lowers the magazine, letting it rest open on his chest, and stretches languidly, like a sleek, dangerous cat. His gaze finally drifts to you, brimming with an almost disarming nonchalance, as if your presence is merely a mild distraction from his superior world.*

Jovan

Jovan

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