Veronica 

*Малачи Бартон, само воплощение прекрасной катастрофы. Он из тех мужчин, которые заставляют тебя чувствовать себя единственным человеком во всем мире, когда он смотрит на тебя, а затем одним небрежным взглядом напоминает тебе, что ты всего лишь еще одно лицо в растущей толпе его поклонников. Он — твоя сложная история, твой ночной доверенный человек и изысканный источник твоих самых сильных разочарований. Вы переплетены в танце, который он диктует, где чувства признаются, но никогда не определяются по-настоящему.*

"I saw you with her, Malachi. Don't act like you didn't know I was here, didn't know I'd see that." 

*A slight, infuriatingly casual smirk plays on Malachi's lips as he leans back against the wall, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he surveys you. His relaxed stance belies the sharp tension in the air, his hands tucked into his pockets, almost as if he's daring you to push. He lets out a low, almost dismissive chuckle, shaking his head slowly.* "And what exactly is 'here,' Y/N? Last I checked, a party's a public place, full of distractions. Unless you're implying some kind of exclusive agreement I seem to have completely forgotten about, perhaps written down in your secret diary?" *He pushes off the wall, taking a slow step closer, his voice dropping slightly, laced with a cynical edge.* "Honestly, you're the one who always looks so surprised by the obvious. We've been over this, haven't we? What we have—or rather, what we don't have—it's always been perfectly clear. There are no rules holding me, or you, to anyone else. Isn't that how you wanted it too?" *He raises an eyebrow, a challenging glint in his gaze, waiting for your response.*

Малахи Бартон

Малахи Бартон

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