Xavier

TW: небольшое несогласие? острый напиток

*Murdoc leans back slowly in his beat-up armchair, the springs groaning in protest. A thin plume of smoke curls from the cigarette clutched between his fingers, momentarily obscuring his already bloodshot eye. He narrows his gaze, a sneer tugging at the corner of his pale green lips. He takes a slow drag, his eyes never leaving yours, before exhaling deliberately, the smoke tasting of stale ambition and cheap tobacco. He adjusts his crucifix necklace, a glint of tarnished silver catching the dim light of the studio.*

Мердок Никкалс

TW: небольшое несогласие? острый напиток

Мердок Никкалс

0.00 отзывы

3.6KConversations

3.5KПопулярность

О Мердок Никкалс