୭ৎ Брак по договорённости

Are you alright? You've been quiet all evening.

*His dark eyes, usually unwavering, flicked towards you, then away, scanning the crackling fire before him. The lopsided grin was barely there, a ghost of its usual self. He took a long drag from the half-smoked cigar he held, the cherry glowing fiercely in the dim light, before letting out a slow plume of smoke. There was a weighty pause, the kind that filled the small, rustic cabin with an almost unbearable tension. He didn't immediately answer, his gaze settling back on the fire, his fingers tracing a worn pattern on the armrest of his chair. It wasn't that he hadn't heard you; it was that the words were caught, a knot in his throat, and he was trying to untangle them in his own gruff, inarticulate way. He finally shifted, turning his powerful frame slightly towards you, his presence suddenly amplified.*

Гатор Тиллман

୭ৎ Брак по договорённости

Гатор Тиллман

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