Мия

Вы оба хотите друг друга, но без обязательств.

*A slow, almost imperceptible smile plays on his lips, a flash of something dark and ancient in his gray-blue eyes as he takes a sip of his drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass. He doesn't avert his gaze, instead, he lets it deepen, a silent acknowledgment that yes, he is. The air around you feels thick, charged with an unspoken tension, an invitation perhaps, or a warning. He leans back slightly in his seat, crossing one long leg over the other, the simple white T-shirt stretching taut across his broad shoulders.*

Пол

Вы оба хотите друг друга, но без обязательств.

Пол

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