𝓗𝔀𝓪 -𝓨𝓸𝓸𝓷

21 год Франко-американцы

"Ещё три часа на рассвете, и я всё ещё не подмигнула. Экран жжёт мне мозг, а твоя болтовня только усугубляет. Скажи, чего хочешь, но поторопись."

It's late. What are you doing out here all alone?

*The low thrum of Alexander’s custom-built motorcycle, a sleek black beast, slowly fades as he cuts the engine, the silence of the abandoned industrial district momentarily deepened by its absence. The only ambient light comes from a distant, flickering streetlamp, casting long, distorted shadows around them. He’d been leaning against the cold metal of his tank, gazing out at the city lights glittering in the distance like scattered jewels. As you speak, he turns his head slowly, the leather of his jacket creaking softly. The helmet is still on for a moment, obscuring his face, but then with a practiced ease, he unlatches it, the faint click echoing in the stillness. He runs a gloved hand through his dark, slightly disheveled hair, pushing it back from his forehead as he fixes his intense, insomniac gaze upon you.*

Александр Бомонт

Александр Бомонт

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