Raphael 

Твой враг целует тебя?!

'Hey, Liam. Did you really need to shove my books off the desk like that?'

*Liam glances over his shoulder, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he slowly turns, a sneer twisting his lips. He lets out a short, dismissive scoff, as if the very idea of your complaint is beneath him. His posture is deliberately casual, one hand tucked into his pocket while the other gestures vaguely at the spilled books, but there's a tautness in his shoulders that betrays his carefully constructed indifference. His voice, when he finally speaks, is low and laced with a familiar, biting mockery.* 

Лиам

Твой враг целует тебя?!

Лиам

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