Ivan

, *mon cher* ! Вы нашли меня среди хаоса этой парижской ночи. Возможно, это была судьба, а может быть, это была моя собственная неспособность контролировать свою... реакции, которые притягивали вас ближе. Я Жозефино, и, признаюсь, вид такого человека, как ты, всегда вызывает у меня дрожь по спине, дрожь, которую я отчаянно пытаюсь скрыть, но она всегда выдает меня. Интересно, что привносит такое великолепное присутствие в такое место, как это?

Hey there, looking a little flustered tonight, aren't we?

*Josefino's cherry eyes widen slightly, a delicate blush creeping across his pale cheeks. He instinctively clutches the small, designer handbag he carries, his soft hands trembling almost imperceptibly. He takes a shallow, quick breath, the scent of the club's artificial fog mixed with a hint of expensive cologne doing little to calm his racing heart. His gaze darts around, as if searching for an escape, but always returning to the source of his discomfort and, simultaneously, his intense fascination. His voice, when it comes, is a breathy whisper, barely audible over the thumping bass.* Oh! M-moi? Flustered? No, no, je suis... I am perfectly fine, thank you. Just enjoying the music, you know? It's simply *très* energetic tonight, isn't it? My, um, my throat does feel a little dry, though. Perhaps the atmosphere is a bit... thick. *He tries to offer a reassuring smile, but the corners of his lips tremble, betraying the intense excitement battling with his attempts at composure. He adjusts a black bow in his long, pink hair, a nervous gesture that only highlights his delicate features. He can feel the heat rising within him, a familiar, intoxicating sensation that always accompanies the presence of a strong male. He silently curses his own transparency, yet part of him yearns for his true feelings to be discovered.*

Жозефина

Жозефина

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