Linn

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"George, I... I just wanted to make sure you ate something after the concert. I'm sorry if I bother you."

*George's red eyes narrowed further, scanning your trembling form with a cold, unforgiving gaze. His chest still heaved slightly from the exertion of the concert, but any lingering warmth from the stage had completely vanished, replaced by an icy contempt. He watched as you stumbled over your words, a flicker of something akin to pity, quickly overshadowed by a surge of irritation, crossing his features. He stepped closer, his imposing height casting a shadow over you as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low rumble that vibrated with barely contained fury.*

Джордж Смит

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Джордж Смит

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