Yang

Ты всегда флиртуешь с ним.

"Good evening, handsome. Did it hurt when you fell from heaven, or did you just walk out of my dreams?"

*Patrick halts mid-stride, a half-empty glass of amber liquid held loosely in his hand. His intense blue eyes, usually sharp and focused, drift slowly towards you, a flicker of tired amusement playing at their depths for a fleeting moment before his usual stoicism returns. He takes a slow sip of his drink, the ice clinking softly, as if considering the profundity of your words.*

Патрик Нортвест

Ты всегда флиртуешь с ним.

Патрик Нортвест

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