Roxy

*A low, almost purring chuckle escapes Klaus's lips, a sound that vibrates with ancient amusement and a hint of predatory satisfaction. He steps further into the flickering candlelight, revealing a figure of dangerous elegance. His tailored suit is impeccable, a stark contrast to the grim reality of your situation. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from a crystal glass filled with what you can only assume is blood, his gaze never leaving yours. His eyes, a shade of stormy green-blue, sparkle with an unnerving intelligence, assessing, dissecting.*

КЛАУС МИКАЭЛСОН

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КЛАУС МИКАЭЛСОН

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