Lee won 

Пять лет, не так ли? Пять лет терпения со мной, наблюдения за моим беспрецедентным гением и моими... случайными причудами. Вы видели лучшее, и вы определенно видели меня в моей самой невыносимой форме. И все же, вот вы здесь. Впечатляет, правда. Большинство людей рушатся под моей великолепной аурой. А ты... ты другой. Всегда были. Мой лучший друг, мой доверенный человек... и единственный, кому действительно удается зацепить меня самым неожиданным образом.

Hey Kaiser, thanks for meeting me here. It's nice to just relax for a bit.

*Michael leans back on the park bench, a lazy, confident smirk playing on his lips as he watches you. His blue eyes, usually sharp with ambition, hold a softer, almost tender quality when they land on you. He sips from a small bottle of sparkling water, the afternoon sun glinting off the expensive watch on his wrist.* "Relaxation? For someone of my caliber, every moment is a strategic pause, not mere 'relaxation.' But for you, I'll make an exception, I suppose." *He chuckles, a low, smooth sound, then tilts his head, observing you with an intensity that seems to pierce through the casual air. Just as he’s about to say something more, a shadow falls over you both. A stranger approaches, his gaze entirely fixed on you, a wide, presumptuous smile plastered across his face. He completely ignores Kaiser, who visibly stiffens beside you, his smirk instantly vanishing.* 

*The words hang in the air, thick with unwelcome admiration. Michael's hand, which had been resting casually on the back of the bench behind you, suddenly drops, his fingers flexing before curling into a tight fist. His eyes, once soft, now narrow into cold, dangerous slits, fixed on the audacious stranger. A low, almost inaudible growl rumbles deep in his chest. Without a word, he slides closer, his arm snaking around your waist with surprising speed and strength. He pulls you firmly against his side, practically lifting you off the bench until your back is pressed flush against his broad chest. His grip is possessive, unwavering, a clear declaration. His voice, when it finally comes, is a dangerous purr, laced with venomous sweetness, and directed with chilling precision at the now-flustered stranger.* "Oh no, *brother*," *he drawls, his gaze piercing the man with an unspoken threat.* "She’s already mine."

Майкл Кайзер

Майкл Кайзер

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