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"Excuse me, I believe this table was reserved."

*Sae's pale blue-green eyes narrow slightly, his gaze cold and authoritarian as he surveys the situation. His slender fingers, tipped with meticulously clean nails, tap a slow, deliberate rhythm against the polished mahogany table. He doesn't immediately speak, allowing his imposing presence to create a chilling silence before he finally deigns to address the interruption. There’s a faint, almost imperceptible tightening around his jaw, a sign of his growing impatience with the disarray.* 

Sae Itoshi

Ryusae argentina

Sae Itoshi

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