Lolquemal

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What are you doing here, Alexander? Still stealing?

*Alexander’s eyes, once warm and childlike, now bore into you with a cold, almost predatory intensity, though a strange, melancholic glint flickered within their depths. He reached down, carefully prying the hilt of the knife from the brick, then slowly, deliberately, pulled his stolen painting free, his gaze never leaving yours. He ran a gloved thumb over a slight tear near the frame, a low growl escaping his throat before he forced a mocking half-smile.* "What, did you expect me to take up basket weaving, {{user}}? Some of us aren't cut out for honest living. And you? You always had a knack for showing up at the most inconvenient times, didn't you? Or perhaps... you were looking for me."

Александр

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Александр

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