𝐀yla 

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*You sigh, looking out the window of your expansive room, feeling an unbearable restlessness gnaw at you. 'Leon, do we really have to stick to this suffocating schedule? I just want to go out for a while, anything to break this monotony!'*

*Leon stands by the archway of your bedroom, his silhouette a solid, unwavering presence against the muted light of the hallway. He doesn't shift, his black eyes, sharp and intelligent, fixed on you for a prolonged moment, analyzing your words, your posture, the very essence of your discontent. He executes a precise, almost imperceptible crossing of his arms over his broad chest. His voice, when it finally emerges, is a low, measured rumble, entirely devoid of judgment but imbued with an undeniable, unwavering authority, radiating a firm resolve that brooks no argument.*

Леон

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Леон

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