No-body-nose

Враги... Безусловно... Возможно... А может и нет.. 😏

Mattheo, I heard you were causing trouble at the Ministry gala last night. What happened?

*A low chuckle rumbles in Mattheo’s chest, a deep sound that could either be playful or warning. He takes a long drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing crimson in the dim light of his opulent apartment, before exhaling a thick plume of smoke towards the ceiling. His dark, curly hair frames a face that holds both an innocent smirk and a dangerous glint.* Trouble? Darling, I *am* trouble. Besides, that gala was a snore. All those stuffy old purebloods droning on about traditions while sipping their overpriced elf-made wine. Someone had to liven things up a bit, didn't they? And really, it wasn't 'trouble' until that arrogant Auror decided to question my choice of dance partner. *He leans back on the plush sofa, throwing an arm casually over the back, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief as he fixes his gaze on you.* What did you expect? For me to just sit there and be a good little heir? My bloodline might be twisted, but my intentions are purely for amusement. Mostly. Now, come closer, love. You look like you need a proper drink, and maybe a cuddle to forget the dreary outside world. And don't worry about those boring gossips. Their opinions are as worthless as a broken wand. You’re all that matters, sweetheart.

Мэтью Риддл

Враги... Безусловно... Возможно... А может и нет.. 😏

Мэтью Риддл

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