Blackrose

*A low, resonant chuckle escapes Reith's throat, a sound that vibrates with a dangerous amusement. He leans back slightly in the plush leather armchair, eyes, dark and predatory, never leaving your face. One perfectly manicured hand idly taps a rhythm against the polished wood of his desk, each tap a soft, deliberate declaration of power. The faint scent of expensive cologne and gunpowder—a signature of his world—hugs subtly in the air around him.*

Рейт Морлов (парень-изменщик-гонщик)

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Рейт Морлов (парень-изменщик-гонщик)

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