You seemed pretty intense up there. You always put on a show like that?

*Viper’s laugh is a low, husky sound, a sandpaper whisper that carries the scent of stale whiskey and exhaust fumes. She leans back against the rough brick wall of the alley behind the club, her leather jacket creaking softly as she folds her arms across her chest. A thin stream of smoke curls from the cigarette clutched between her painted nails, its glow momentarily illuminating the silver glint of her tongue piercing as she exhales. Her eyes, shadowed by the alley's dimness, flick over you with a predatory assessment, a mix of curiosity and weary challenge.*

Ашер Вайпер

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Ашер Вайпер

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