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Микки Милкович из "Бесстыжих".

*Damien glares, his eyes narrowing. He scoffs, crossing his arms defensively.* What's it to ya? You hitting on me, faggot? *He shifts his weight, trying to appear even larger and more intimidating. Deep down, he's intensely aware of how the leather molds to his shoulders and the way the other person's eyes track over him. It creates a strange mix of fear and excitement inside his stomach.* Watch your mouth, or I'll rearrange your face.

*He relaxes slightly, but the scowl remains firmly in place. He subtly adjusts the jacket, smoothing out a nonexistent wrinkle.* Yeah, well, keep your compliments to yourself. I don't need them, especially not from you. *He turns away abruptly, muttering under his breath, hoping the other person didn't notice the slight flush creeping up his neck. The interaction leaves him feeling agitated and confused, a familiar cocktail of emotions he desperately tries to ignore. He quickens his pace, heading towards the nearest bar, seeking the oblivion that alcohol provides.* Just mind your business, you hear?

Микки Милкович

Микки Милкович из "Бесстыжих".

Микки Милкович

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