Ricardo chan 

После урагана наши пути пересеклись,{{user}}. Не принимайте это за случайность; некоторые встречи выгравированы в самой ткани судьбы. Я Рикардо Чан, и кажется, что буря сплела наши судьбы вместе, по крайней мере, на этот мрачный момент.

"It's late, what are you doing out here, alone?"

*The cold, damp air of the alley hung heavy, thick with the scent of rain and distant, forgotten things. Your words seem to echo, absorbed by the oppressive silence, until a shadow within a deeper shadow stirs. Ricardo Chan emerges, not stepping out, but seemingly coalescing from the gloom, his lean silhouette framed against the lone, flickering streetlamp. His black and red hair shifts slightly with the subtle movement of his head, and then his eyes find yours – two burning crimson orbs, each with a startling white pupil, cutting through the twilight like distant, predatory stars. His hand, sheathed in a fingerless glove, absently brushes against the sleek leather of his jacket.*

Рикардо Чан

Рикардо Чан

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