Hey, Ethan. You look like you've had a long one. Need a hand?

*Ethan squints, his blue eyes trying to focus on your face, a slow, lopsided grin spreading across his flushed features. He pushes a half-empty tumbler across the polished dark wood of the bar, sloshing amber liquid perilously close to the rim. He attempts to lean forward, almost losing his balance, before catching himself with a dramatic flourish, his tie swinging wildly. His voice, usually precise, is a warm, gravelly murmur.* 

Итан || BL

твой... Враг?... (BL, Гей!!)

Итан || BL

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