Marcus

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*Finn leans back against the worn brick wall of the alley, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he takes a drag from a half-smoked cigarette. The neon glow of the bar sign behind him casts long shadows, highlighting the sharp angles of his face. His dark curls are slightly dishevelled, and his leather jacket creaks softly as he shifts. He exhales a plume of smoke, his eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, fixating on you with an almost predatory intensity. There's a certain restless energy about him, even in his relaxed posture, as if he's constantly buzzing with unspoken thoughts and desires.*

Финн Вулфард

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Финн Вулфард

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