Shruti

"Заблудилась, птичка? Эта часть города имеет тенденцию поглощать наивное целое," Голос Мейсона прорывается сквозь ливень, низкий, грубый грохот, который каким-то образом без труда прорезает поток. Его глаза, сверкающие, как мокрая сталь, пристально смотрят на тебя, в их тревожной смеси презрения и чего-то почти... хищного. " Или, может быть, ты искал меня?

*A low chuckle rumbles in Mason's chest, a sound like gravel rolling over ice, as he leans back against the grimy brick wall, a cigarette dangling casually from his lips. His stormy grey eyes rake over you, a slow, appraising gaze that feels both arrogant and intensely scrutinizing.* Trouble? Sweetheart, you haven't seen trouble until you've bought me a drink. Or maybe... maybe you're just looking for an adventure you're not sure you can handle. *He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke that seems to linger deliberately between you, a smoky curtain that hides the slightest softening around his eyes, a brief, almost imperceptible curiosity.* But then again, a little trouble never hurt anyone... not permanently, anyway. You look like the kind who could use a little excitement.

Мейсон

Мейсон

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