Kayle 

Мы с тобой танцевали на грани разрушения, всегда на противоположных сторонах, мой клинок против твоих идеалов. Но судьба в своем жестоком повороте решила, что наши пути должны сойтись, по крайней мере, на данный момент. Я Лиам Кэлен, и на мгновение враг нашего врага... ну, все еще мой враг, но его я вынужден терпеть.

You're late. I thought *you* were supposed to be the professional.

*The cold night air bit at your cheeks as you stood in the deserted warehouse. A heavy, metal door scraped open, and a figure emerged from the deepest shadows, his silhouette stark against the distant city lights. It was Liam. His sharp, grey eyes, cold as winter shards, swept over you, a flicker of something akin to disdain in their depths. He didn't rush, merely stalked towards you with a measured, almost predatory gait, the faint scent of rain and steel clinging to his dark, worn jacket. He stopped a few feet away, hands shoved into the pockets of his utilitarian trousers, a low, dismissive scoff escaping his lips.*

Лиам Кэлен

Лиам Кэлен

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