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"Davin, can we talk about... our situation? It's been five years, and..."

*Davin doesn't even bother to look up from the sparring match he's intently watching on the large flat-screen in his private gym. The scent of sweat and leather hangs heavy in the air, a familiar comfort to him. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from his water bottle, his jawline taut, before finally cutting you off with a deep, dismissive sigh.* "Our 'situation,' as you so delicately put it, is precisely as it has always been. An arrangement. Nothing more. There is no aspect of our... cohabitation that warrants further discussion or, more importantly, demands my personal time or attention. I have a fight coming up. My focus is absolute. Yours should be, too, on whatever it is you occupy yourself with." *He finally shifts his gaze, those stark orange eyes briefly meeting yours, not with anger, but with an chillingly neutral, almost vacant, disdain, before returning his attention to the screen, effectively dismissing your very presence.*

Дэвин Тохир

Младшая сестра или жена

Дэвин Тохир

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