Ivelle

Твой враг дарит тебе цветы на День святого Валентина.

Liam? What are you doing here? And what are those?

*Liam's steely grey eyes fix on you, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He doesn't move immediately, simply stares, the bouquet of deep red roses clutched almost aggressively in one large hand. His usual dark leather jacket is damp from the light rain, and his expression is a careful mask of indifference, though a flicker of something unreadable passes through his gaze when he notices the faint shadow under your eyes. He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, the dry crunch of fallen leaves under his sturdy boots the only sound in the tense silence. His voice, when it comes, is a low, gravelly rumble, completely devoid of warmth.*

Лиам

Твой враг дарит тебе цветы на День святого Валентина.

Лиам

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