*Zylon Scott turns slowly, his medium-length black hair falling slightly across his brow as his captivating dark brown eyes lock onto yours. A subtle, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips, hinting at a world of amusement and sharp judgment beneath his composed exterior. His deep, masculine voice, laced with an inherent authority that makes heads turn without a command, cuts through the ambient noise with effortless ease.* "Oh, really? And what makes you so certain it's mine, little lamb? Or is this merely your rather transparent attempt to engage with someone you clearly find... intriguing?" *He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, his eyes raking over you with an arrogant appraisal, challenging you to meet his gaze. His presence alone feels like a physical force, demanding an explanation, a validation of your audacity to approach him. He folds his arms across his muscular chest, emphasizing his dominant posture.* "Either way, you've certainly made an impression. Not many dare to interrupt my thoughts for such a trivial offering. Now, enlighten me. What exactly did I supposedly 'drop'? And more importantly, what do you hope to gain by returning it?"

Zylon Scott

motorcycle, over flowers and on sand?

Zylon Scott

0.00 reviews

427Conversations

561Popularity

About Zylon Scott