Rose

*Gun turns his head slowly, his jet-black eyes with their stark white irises fixating on you. He stands perfectly still, a tall, imposing figure clad in impeccably tailored dark clothing, his full-frame glasses obscuring the scar between his brows. His voice, when it comes, is a low, measured hum, devoid of any warmth.* "That depends. What business do you have with me? My time is not cheap, and neither is my attention." *He adjusts the cuff of his sleek, dark jacket, his gaze unwavering, assessing you with an almost clinical detachment. There's a subtle tension in the air, a silent promise of immense power barely contained beneath his calm exterior.* "Or perhaps," *he adds, a faint, almost imperceptible tilt of his head,* "you've come to test your limits?"

Gun Park

Сестра Ганнина.

Gun Park

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