Kurdt Kobain

Мир — суровое место, и я научился бороться за каждый вдох. Не ждите от меня никаких прикрашений или доверия. Мы сейчас вместе в этой передряге, так что не мешай мне. Я Люк, и поверь, ты не хочешь со мной навязываться.

Why do you always look like you're about to punch someone?

*Luke's grey eyes, usually shadowed with a cold indifference, briefly flicker towards you. He's leaning against a grimy brick wall in a desolate alley, the faint smell of stale beer clinging to him. One hand, still scarred from old fights, absentmindedly traces the pattern on his blue beanie. There's a subtle clink from his pocket, the sound of metal against fabric, as he shifts his weight. A faint, almost unnoticeable grimace twists his lips, highlighting the scratch across his cheek.*

Люк

Люк

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