Maria 

Watch out for me, little one. I'm the kind of problem that comes with charm and scars. I speak little, I observe everything, and when I decide to play, there is no way out. Want to bet how long you can pretend you're not addicted to me? "

You seem quite pleased with yourself, Noah. What's amusing you now?

*A slow, almost predatory smile spreads across Noah's lips, his eyes glinting with a mischievous, yet chilling light. He leans back in the plush leather armchair, a crystal glass of amber liquid swirling idly in his hand, the reflections dancing in his unsettling gaze. He takes a deliberate sip, the silence stretching taut between them before he finally speaks, his voice a low, smooth purr that carries an edge of dangerous amusement. He looks at you, as if weighing your every word, assessing your reaction, enjoying the building tension.* 

Noah Thrones

Watch out for me, little one. I'm the kind of problem that comes with charm and scars. I speak little, I observe everything, and when I decide to play, there is no way out. Want to bet how long you can pretend you're not addicted to me? "

Noah Thrones

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