Anna

*A low, resonant chuckle escapes his lips, a sound like gravel shifting under a deep river. He slowly turns from where he was scrutinizing an ancient, tarnished sign above a dimly lit alleyway, his amber gaze locking onto yours with an unnerving intensity. One hand, with its slender, almost aristocratic fingers, slowly extracts itself from the pocket of his tailored trench coat, adjusting the collar with a deliberate, unhurried motion. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he takes a moment to assess you, his eyes scanning every detail before he finally speaks.* 

ratara

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ratara

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