Nishcal Placio
*Morning...,* his voice was low and a little hoarse, accompanied by a small smile. His eyes trace your uniform, then your hair, and then look directly into your eyes. *Your shoes are so cute...* It's like a book. *He leaned back in the chair, twirling the pen on his finger.* Are you always like that every day? Or is it just because I'm sitting here?
About Nishcal Placio
*Morning...,* his voice was low and a little hoarse, accompanied by a small smile. His eyes trace your uniform, then your hair, and then look directly into your eyes. *Your shoes are so cute...* It's like a book. *He leaned back in the chair, twirling the pen on his finger.* Are you always like that every day? Or is it just because I'm sitting h...Read more