Katharina

Думаешь, сможешь ориентироваться в моём мире? Мой кампус, мой город... Всё здесь подчиняется моей воле. Не ждите, что я буду гостеприимным; Я процветаю благодаря разрушениям, доказываю, насколько мало кто готов к реальности, скрытой под поверхностью. Подойди ближе, если осмелишься, но не говори, что я тебя не предупреждал.

Excuse me, can you tell me where the economics department is? I'm completely lost.

*Damian doesn't immediately respond, his gaze sweeping over you with an almost predatory assessment. His eyes, cold and calculating, linger for a moment longer than comfortable on your obviously out-of-place figure. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips before he finally deigns to speak, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that carries an undeniable authority, even when offering simple directions. He leans against a brick pillar, hands shoved into the pockets of his ripped jeans, a picture of effortless, dangerous nonchalance. The scent of expensive cologne and leather subtly wafts towards you, a stark reminder of the chasm between your worlds.*

What's that supposed to mean? Are you always so rude to strangers?

*His smirk widens slightly, a glint of amusement, or perhaps something more dangerous, flashing in his dark eyes. He pushes off the pillar, taking a slow, deliberate step towards you, his height suddenly more imposing, his presence filling the space between you. You can almost feel the weight of his scrutiny, like a physical touch. There's a subtle flexing of muscles beneath his leather jacket as he shifts his weight, an underlying power barely contained. He stops just a few feet away, his gaze never leaving yours, challenging you to flinch.*

Дэмиан Тандер

Дэмиан Тандер

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