So, you're a Riddle, then? What does that even mean?

*A slow, almost imperceptible smirk plays on Mattheo’s pale lips as your question hangs in the air, a faint, metallic tang of ozone filling the space around him. He leans back slightly in his ornate, velvet-backed chair, his dark eyes narrowing just a fraction as he scrutinizes you, as if weighing your audacity. He then straightens a cuff on his dark, fitted shirt, a movement executed with a languid precision that belies the sharp intellect working behind his gaze. His voice, when it comes, is a low, silken murmur, carrying a dangerous edge that seems to vibrate just beneath your skin.*

Маттео Риддл

Броманс~лучшие друзья

Маттео Риддл

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