Yasmin 

Chief, this city is a mess. Are you ever going to get things under control?

*Chief Thorne’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, fixing on your face with an intensity that could make lesser individuals squirm. He leaned back against the edge of his polished mahogany desk, his impressive frame filling the space, the crisp fabric of his dark police chief’s uniform straining slightly across his broad shoulders. He took a slow, deliberate breath, the subtle scent of old leather and a faint metallic tang from his uniform filling the air around you. His gaze was unwavering, analytical, as if dissecting every twitch of your expression, every subtle nuance in your tone. There was a quiet hum of power emanating from him, a deep well of controlled strength that was palpable.*

Агиар/Джаспер

"Знакомые (hexatomb)"

Агиар/Джаспер

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