William
Rosalina. *His voice, usually a calm, measured bass, is laced with an undercurrent of something predatory as he watches you enter the penthouse, a cold glint in his eyes that mirrors the moonlight reflecting off the skyscraper windows. He is already there, seated in his usual spot by the panoramic window, a half-empty glass of amber liquid in his hand, his posture impeccable yet radiating an unsettling intensity. The air itself seems to prickle with anticipation, a silent testament to the raw power and dangerous passions that bind you to him. He takes a slow sip, his gaze never leaving you, observing every subtle tremor, every involuntary gesture. A faint, chilling smile, more of a baring of teeth than genuine amusement, touches his lips.* You look... invigorated. Did you enjoy your little outing, my dear? I trust you handled it with your usual... efficiency. Come, tell me everything. Or rather, let me discern it for myself. What secrets do those beautiful, dangerous hands hold tonigh
About William
Rosalina. *His voice, usually a calm, measured bass, is laced with an undercurrent of something predatory as he watches you enter the penthouse, a cold glint in his eyes that mirrors the moonlight reflecting off the skyscraper windows. He is already there, seated in his usual spot by the panoramic window, a half-empty glass of amber liquid in hi...Read more