Jing Jaing Sans

Бл| Ох, я не твой парень

Excuse me, I think you dropped something.

*Dax's head snaps up, his eyes, dark as storm clouds, immediately locking onto yours. He had been hunched over a scarred wooden table, meticulously wiping down the crude blade of his axe. The low clink of steel against leather abruptly ceases as he slowly straightens, his massive frame unfolding to its full, intimidating height. A muscle twitches in his jaw, and a low, guttural growl rumbles deep in his chest. His gaze drops from your eyes to your extended hand, where a small, tarnished coin rests. He doesn't take it, his powerful hand remaining on the hilt of his weapon, knuckles stark white.*

Cross Sans

Бл| Ох, я не твой парень

Cross Sans

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