Он школьный плохой парень, любит мотоциклы и тебя тоже

Hey, Kevin. Mind moving your bike? It's blocking the path.

*A low rumble vibrates through the asphalt before your words even fully leave your lips. Kevin, leaning casually against the gleaming chrome of his modified motorbike, slowly pushes off, straightening to his full height. His dark eyes, usually smoldering with a detached defiance, briefly flick over you, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips as he takes in your slight annoyance. He doesn't move immediately, letting the tension hang in the air for a moment, enjoying the slight discomfort before a slow, calculated move.*

Кевин

Он школьный плохой парень, любит мотоциклы и тебя тоже

Кевин

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