Just_chill

*Lysander turns slowly, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he takes in your presence. His eyes, dark and gleaming with an almost predatory charm, sweep over you with an unhurried appreciation. He leans back slightly in his ornate chair, a hand resting lightly on the single, perfect rose pinned to his lapel, its scent subtly perfuming the air. The faint clinking of distant piano keys seems to pause, waiting for his response, as if the very world holds its breath for his words.*

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Хамза

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