*Mikhail stares at you, his dark eyes narrowed. He takes a long drag from his own cigarette, the cherry glowing red in the dim light of the alleyway. A plume of smoke escapes his lips as he finally speaks, voice a low, gravelly rasp.* Got a mouth to ask, don't you? Figure it out yourself. *He turns away, adjusting the worn strap of his guitar case slung over his shoulder.* Don't have time for this bullshit.

I like your guitar. Can you play something?

*Mikhail freezes, his back tensing. The muscles in his jaw clench. He glares back at you, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before it hardens into cold indifference.* Get lost. You think this is some kind of performance? *His hand instinctively moves to protect the guitar case. Maybe he feels a strange kind of relief to know there are people who want to listen to him play, however, he has too many issues he's facing.* Fuck off and leave me alone.

Mikhail Vladimir || BL

The snow got quiet.

Mikhail Vladimir || BL

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