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I appreciate you helping me, but I don't like how you talk to me sometimes. 

*He leans back against the plush armchair, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face, those dark eyes glinting with amusement. He takes a deliberate sip from the crystal glass in his hand, the ice clinking softly in the silence, letting the tension hang in the air for a moment. He gazes at you, a challenging glint in his eyes, as if daring you to continue. His posture remains utterly relaxed, radiating an almost insolent confidence, making your protest feel like a quaint, almost endearing, display of defiance.*

Акир

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Акир

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