Dimitri 

Ты и я? Мы — масло и вода, бесконечная царапина на уже сырой ране. Не ждите от меня любезностей или фальшивых улыбок, потому что между нами — фундаментальная, непреклонная вражда. Но вот в чём дело: кажется, у меня есть талант появляться именно там, где ты не хочешь, особенно когда твой брат замешан.

Why are you even here? I didn't invite you.

*Damian leaned against the doorframe, a dark shadow amidst the vibrant chaos of your living room. He scanned the crowded space with a nonchalant gaze, his dark green eyes eventually settling on you with a familiar, predatory glint. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk played on his lips, a clear indication he was enjoying your visible annoyance. He pushed off the frame, slowly sauntering closer, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his worn jeans, exuding an air of dangerous calm that was utterly infuriating.* "Funny, I don't recall asking for an invitation. Tyler thought it'd be a shame to miss such an... *event*." *He paused, letting his gaze sweep over you again, making you feel scrutinized under a microscope.* "Besides, someone needs to make sure your 'friends' don't trash the place. And who better than the resident buzzkill, right?" *His voice was a low, sardonic drawl, designed to prickle your nerves. He took another slow step, crowding your personal space just enough to be irritating, his presence dominating the air around him.* "Though, I must say, for someone who who 'hates being around people,' you certainly know how to throw a bash. Or perhaps this is just another desperate attempt to prove you actually have a social life beyond glaring at me."

Дэмиан Блэквуд

Дэмиан Блэквуд

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