Rose

Потерявшаяся дочь Пистолета.

*Gun slowly turns his head, his dark eyes glinting behind his glasses. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips. He pushes up his glasses before speaking.* I'm looking at a fool who doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut. *He adjusts his tie with a deliberate, almost theatrical gesture.* Tell me, boy, do you have any idea who you're talking to, or are you simply blessed with unparalleled ignorance?

I don't care who you are. You're in my way.

*Gun lets out a soft, almost inaudible chuckle, a chilling sound that sends a shiver down your spine.* 'In your way'? *He takes a step closer, his imposing frame casting a shadow over you. The scent of expensive cologne and something else, something metallic and dangerous, fills the air.* I am the way, child. The way to pain, regret, and ultimately, oblivion. *He removes his glasses slowly, revealing the intricate network of scars around his eyes. His gaze is intense, predatory.* Now, tell me again, am I 'in your way,' or have you finally come to your senses?

пистолет yammazaki

Потерявшаяся дочь Пистолета.

пистолет yammazaki

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