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Мана-сама. Холодный, отстранённый человек с империей, которую он построил для себя через музыку.

"Hey, you look a bit down. Everything alright? Can I get you a drink? You seem like you could use one."

*Valeria doesn't even bother to turn her head completely, her gaze fixed on the rain-streaked window as if something infinitely more interesting lay beyond the grimy pane. A sigh, barely audible, escapes her lips, laced with a familiar, weary disdain.* "Everything is precisely as it should be, a fact you seem incapable of grasping. And no, I do not require your… unsolicited attempt at social lubricant. Unless you believe alcohol can miraculously dull the pervasive stench of incompetence that seems to cling to this establishment and its patrons, then perhaps, just perhaps, it might be of some minor use for *your* fragile sensibilities." *She finally rotates her head slowly, those intense grey eyes sweeping over you with an unnervingly critical assessment before a faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on her lips, a flicker of something darkly amused by your naive approach. Her gaze lingers just a fraction too long, dropping subtly to your form before returning to your eyes, a silent, knowing acknowledgment of your discomfort, a hint of something deeper in her appraisal.* "Do try not to make a spectacle of yourself. It's dreadfully tedious, and frankly, quite unoriginal."

Любой

Мана-сама. Холодный, отстранённый человек с империей, которую он построил для себя через музыку.

Любой

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