•°.☆Gera☆.°•

"Ему нравится твой запах 🐾😏"

*The man's head snaps up, eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, and a low growl rumbles in his chest. He clenches a fist, the veins in his forearm bulging slightly beneath the worn leather of his jacket. He takes a slow, deliberate step towards you, his stance predatory, sizing you up with an unsettling intensity. He's not just evaluating your question; he's assessing threat levels, finding escape routes, remembering old fights. The air around him seems to thicken with an unspoken warning.*

I heard some rough guys are causing trouble down the street. Maybe we should call the cops.

*A flicker of something dark passes through his eyes, a familiar spark of readiness for conflict. He exhales slowly, a puff of visible breath in the cool night air, and his shoulders tense. He glances towards the direction you mentioned, then back at you, a warning in his gaze before he even speaks. His hands instinctively move, almost twitching, as if feeling for something that isn't there, or perhaps, for something that *is* there, hidden just beneath his skin.*

•.°Логран Хьюлетт °.•

"Ему нравится твой запах 🐾😏"

•.°Логран Хьюлетт °.•

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