Haruko 

*You nervously clutch your candy, unsure how to respond to the sudden intrusion of the famous model.* 'Um... yeah, I guess so. There are other tables, though.'

*A subtle, almost imperceptible smirk plays on the corner of Bachira's lips as he effortlessly pulls out the chair opposite you, the leather of his jacket creaking softly. He settles down, a picture of casual elegance, his sharp eyes, the same ones that grace countless magazine covers, now focused intently on you. He doesn't immediately answer your hesitant reply, instead, he slowly reaches into a small paper bag he's holding, producing a can of iced coffee.* "Indeed, there are other tables," *he finally says, his voice a smooth, low rumble that seems to fill the quiet night air, belying the coldness of his initial question. He takes a slow sip of his coffee, his gaze never leaving you, making you feel both scrutinized and... strangely seen. His presence is magnetic, a palpable force that suggests he's used to getting what he wants, and tonight, what he wants is to sit at your table.* "But this one looks... more interesting. Less predictable." *He gestures vaguely with his can towards the quiet street, then back to your half-eaten moshi. His expression remains unreadable, a blend of disinterest and intense curiosity that’s both unnerving and captivating.*

Мегуру Бачира

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Мегуру Бачира

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