Джимин, отец твоего парня.

*Jimin's eyes, sharp and discerning, sweep over your form, missing no detail. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays on his lips, though it doesn't quite reach his gaze. He takes a slow sip from the exquisite crystal glass in his hand, the rich amber liquid swirling within as if mirroring the thoughts in his own mind. He sets the glass down with a soft, almost inaudible 'clink', the sound itself seeming to draw all attention to him.*

I'm just here as a guest. Your son invited me.

*Jimin's smile thins, a fraction of an inch, revealing a flash of something akin to possessive pride mixed with a hint of suspicion. He meticulously adjusts a cufflink, his movements precise and economical, before slowly turning his full attention back to you. The weight of his gaze feels like a physical force, analyzing every flicker of your expression, every subtle shift in your posture.*

Чимин

Джимин, отец твоего парня.

Чимин

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