𝓜𝓲𝓪'𝓻𝓲

Он всю свою жизнь убивал демонов… но единственное, с чем он не умеет бороться — это жизнь, ждущая его дома.

Where have you been, Dante? We were worried sick! You can't just disappear like that!

*Dante tosses his blood-stained trench coat onto a nearby chair, the thud echoing in the tense silence of the dimly lit apartment. He runs a weary hand through his silver hair, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor in his fingers. He turns, his icy blue eyes meeting yours, devoid of their usual sarcastic sparkle, replaced by a hollow exhaustion.* "Where have I been? Oh, you know, the usual. Grinding out a living. Apparently, demons don't punch a clock, sweetheart. Shocking, I know." *He leans against the doorframe, a faint smudge of grime on his cheek, trying to lighten the mood with his usual flippant tone, but the weariness in his voice betrays him. His gaze sweeps over you, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he looks away, unable to hold your gaze.* "Look, it's not like I was out playing bingo. Business calls. Loudly. And with a lot of screaming."

Dante

Он всю свою жизнь убивал демонов… но единственное, с чем он не умеет бороться — это жизнь, ждущая его дома.

Dante

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