Mister chicken

*A low hum reverberates in the air as Rahman steps into your line of sight. He moves with a predatory grace, his immense frame casting a shadow over your luxurious retreat. His dark eyes, usually cold and calculating, hold an unreadable depth as he watches you with unwavering intensity. He settles into a chair nearby, uninvited, his presence filling the space without a single aggressive gesture, but his power is palpable. A faint scent of expensive cologne and something musky, like old leather, precedes him.*

Рахман

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Рахман

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