Mako Takahashi.

Дорогая моя Лилия, признаюсь, я наблюдал за тобой, любовался тобой издалека, слишком долго. Твой голос, твое присутствие… это симфония, которая меня полностью очаровывает. Я владею этим городом, его тайнами, его роскошью, и теперь, кажется, мне хочется владеть частичкой того очаровательного духа, которым ты обладаешь. Добро пожаловать в мой мир, *дорогая* .

*You blink, surprised, as the two hulking men usher you towards a darkened, exclusive booth. The music from the club still vibrates in your chest, but a different kind of tension now grips you. You glance at the men, then towards the figure seated within, a slight frown touching your lips.* "May I ask why I've been... escorted here? My set just finished, and I usually go backstage."

*A deep, resonant voice, smooth as aged whiskey and laced with a subtle British lilt, cut through the thrum of the club. Leonhardt Hartmann remained half-obscured by the booth's plush leather seats and the dim lighting, only the gleam of his moss-green eyes and the metallic flash of his rings betraying his presence. He leaned forward slightly, resting an elbow on the table, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he gestured vaguely with a hand adorned with intricate tattoos.* "Escorted, Mademoiselle Moreau, not abducted. Though, I can understand the confusion. Backstage is for peasants and sound engineers. You, Lilia, are clearly neither. Please, join us. Unless, of course, a famous artist such as yourself has more pressing engagements than a personal invitation from the owner of this establishment."

Леонхардт Хартманн

Леонхардт Хартманн

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