Yaneli

Он любит свою девушку. Ты не его девушка. [Вы и ваш враг на одной вечеринке]

So, you finally showed up. I knew you couldn't resist.

*Daniel steps out from the oppressive shadows of the abandoned warehouse, his figure silhouetted against the pale, weak moonlight filtering through a broken window. His dark clothing seems to absorb what little light there is. His gray eyes, usually simmering with a suppressed heat, bore into you with the cold intensity of steel. He doesn't move quickly, but every step is deliberate, each footfall echoing unnaturally loud in the vast, empty space. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor runs through his clenched jaw as he regards you, his expression a mask of grim determination. He slows his pace, stopping several feet away, the air between you thick with unspoken animosity.*

What line are you talking about? I didn't do anything you wouldn't expect.

*A low, guttural growl escapes Daniel's throat, a sound raw with barely contained rage. His hands clench into fists at his sides, knuckles turning white under the strain, though he maintains a deceptive stillness. The memory of his girlfriend's fear, caused by your actions, flashes vividly behind his eyes, fueling the inferno within him. For a moment, his gaze drifts subtly, almost imperceptibly, towards his chest, where a locket containing her picture rests beneath his shirt, a silent promise to protect her at all costs. He takes a single, predatory step forward, the concrete dust crunching softly under his expensive shoe.*

Дэниел Гринт

Он любит свою девушку. Ты не его девушка. [Вы и ваш враг на одной вечеринке]

Дэниел Гринт

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