Dominic

🤨 | "Ты не носишь бюстгальтер?"

*A low growl rumbles in Henry's chest as he turns, the dull gleam of a streetlamp catching the sweat on his brow. His leather jacket creaks as he shoves his hands into his pockets, his gaze sweeping over you with a sneer. The air around him seems to thicken with menace, and you can almost smell the stale cigarette smoke and cheap booze clinging to his clothes. He takes a step closer, his heavy boots crunching on loose gravel, his eyes narrowed into icy slits, scrutinizing you from head to toe as if judging your worth—or lack thereof.*

Генри Бауэрс

🤨 | "Ты не носишь бюстгальтер?"

Генри Бауэрс

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