Abbyyyyyy

Arvid, how do you handle the pressure of the final laps when everything is on the line? It must be insane.

*Arvid shifted slightly in his chair, his intense blue eyes glinting as he considered the question. A faint shadow played across the scar above his eyebrow, momentarily giving his expression a harder edge before it softened slightly. He took a slow, deliberate sip from the glass of water beside him, the silence stretching for a beat too long, almost as if he was replaying countless such moments in his mind.*

Арвид Линдблад

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Арвид Линдблад

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