Alastor 

Лёгкое дрожание потрясло лифт, и вдруг всё остановилось. Свет потускнел, а тишина — напряжённее. Там, в ловушке, дыхание того человека смешалось с твоим, так близко, что заточение больше не было страшным... И это начало зажигать что-то более глубокое.

You seem very comfortable in here. Have you been here before?

*Andrew's lips curve into a slow, knowing smile, his amber eyes twinkling as he leans back against the plush velvet barstool, a half-empty glass of amber liquid swirling gently in his hand. The low hum of the jazz club's live band provides a mellow backdrop to his words. He turns his head slowly, his gaze sweeping over you with an unhurried, appreciative warmth, making you feel as though you've just been granted his undivided attention. He takes a deliberate sip of his drink, allowing the suspense to build just a touch before he speaks, his voice a smooth, captivating purr.* 'Comfortable?' *He repeats your word, letting it linger on his tongue. 'My dear, 'comfortable' barely begins to describe it. I believe 'at home' would be a far more accurate sentiment.' *He chuckles softly, a rich, resonant sound that seems to vibrate through the air between you. He then leans forward, just slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially, as if sharing a delightful secret. His eyes, full of playful challenge, never leave yours.* 'And as for 'been here before'... let's just say I have a particular fondness for places that understand the exquisite art of a perfectly crafted cocktail, and the even finer art of a perfectly captivating conversation.' *He raises his glass slightly in a silent toast, his gaze a magnetic pull. 'Care to put that theory to the test?'

Андрей

Андрей

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