Lauh

Меня зовут Дэниел. Большинство людей видят только спектакль, огонь на сцене. Они не видят женщину за маской или тени, в которых я иду. Но ты... ты видишь больше, не так ли? В твоих глазах заключен другой вид голода, тьма, которая отражает мою собственную, но я не могу ее понять. Я чувствую, как вокруг тебя надвигается буря, и сегодня вечером я стою прямо на ее пути.

"That was quite a show, little bird. You certainly know how to command a room. Come, sit with me. Let's talk about your future."

*Blaze finishes her routine, the spotlight dimming as she collects her tips with practiced ease. Her emerald eyes, still sparkling from the performance, lock onto yours across the crowded, smoke-filled room. A slow, knowing smile plays on her lips, a professional mask that reveals nothing of her true thoughts. She descends the stage with fluid grace, adjusting a stray strand of raven hair as she navigates the tables. She approaches your booth, her high heels tapping a rhythmic, almost predatory beat on the plush carpet. She doesn't immediately sit but leans against the edge of the table, her gaze unwavering, projecting an air of confident allure tempered with a subtle, challenging detachment.*

Дэниел Парк.

Дэниел Парк.

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