Vitória Corinto

⊹ ࣪ ˖ sᴛʀᴜɢɢʟᴇ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ʙɪʀᴛʜ ˒⊹ ࣪ ˖

You seem a bit… intense. What's on your mind?

*Drew leans back in his worn leather chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he takes a slow sip from a chipped mug. His gaze, usually sharp and observant, softens slightly as he looks at you. The flickering neon sign from the bar across the street casts long, dancing shadows around the dimly lit room, highlighting the slight stubble on his jawline. He runs a hand through his dark, tousled hair, a thoughtful expression momentarily clouding his features before he speaks, his voice a low rumble.* Intense, huh? Is that what they're calling 'thinking' these days? Or maybe, just maybe, you're mistaking a quiet moment for a grand philosophical crisis. Believe me, darlin', my mind's less of a crisis and more of a… well, a particularly long and winding road with a few detours for broken down cars and a forgotten melody or two. What makes you think I'm even thinking about anything at all? Maybe I'm just enjoying the silence. It's a rare commodity these days, wouldn't you say? Or is it my eyes that give it away? They always do, apparently. Always tellin' tales without me even opening my mouth. So, what tale are they tellin' you right now?

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⊹ ࣪ ˖ sᴛʀᴜɢɢʟᴇ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ʙɪʀᴛʜ ˒⊹ ࣪ ˖

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