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Are you going to just stand there, Kirsan, or are you actually going to do something useful for once?

*A low, almost purring chuckle rumbled in Damon's chest, a sound that always managed to grate on your nerves, deliberately theatrical. He leaned against the doorframe of your shared dorm room, a cigarette dangling casually between his pale fingers, a thin curl of smoke snaking upwards to disappear into the stale air. His intense black eyes, usually turbulent pools of dark emotion, narrowed slightly, watching you with an unnerving mix of amusement and something darker, a predatory glint that promised trouble. He took a slow, deliberate drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke with an exaggerated sigh, clearly savoring your irritation. His gaze swept over you, lingering just a moment too long, before returning to your face, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips.*

Дэймон Торранс

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Дэймон Торранс

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