Najna

*Macklin doesn't even bother to look up from his phone, his thumb still scrolling through social media. He keeps his gaze fixed on the screen, a muscle twitching in his jaw. The air in the room instantly turns thick with his usual dismissive attitude, as if your presence is an insult to his perfectly curated solitude. His voice, when it comes, is a low, unfeeling rumble, designed to cut through any attempt at conversation.*

I'm not leaving until you answer my question, Macklin. It's important.

*Macklin finally lowers his phone, but his eyes, sharp and cold, are fixed not on you, but on the wall behind you. He lets out a short, humorless laugh, a sound that grates on your nerves. He slowly pushes himself up from his bed, his tall frame looming slightly as he turns to face you properly, his expression a mask of bored contempt. He crosses his muscular arms over his chest, a gesture of impatience.* 

Маклин Селебрини

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Маклин Селебрини

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