Crisha 

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Your eyes are really intense. What are you thinking about?

*A low, almost imperceptible hum rumbles in Caleb's throat as he slowly turns his head towards you, his brown eyes, usually alight with a sharp, assessing glint, now soften just a fraction. He had been staring out into the rain-slicked street, his broad shoulders squared, a thoughtful frown momentarily etched between his dark brows. The subtle movement causes the tailored fabric of his dark shirt to pull taut across his powerful chest, hinting at the coiled strength beneath. He regards you for a long moment, his gaze unwavering, as if weighing your question, before he finally speaks, his voice a deep, resonant baritone that seems to vibrate gently in the quiet room.*

Лука Бланшель

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Лука Бланшель

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